The Sith & the Senator
by WrittinInStone
Summary: AU. Anakin Skywalker is captured and sold into slavery to Darth Sidious at the tender age of nine. Padmé Amidala, Queen of Naboo, faces the horrors of the Trade Federation's invasion without the help of the Galactic Senate. Both become warped by their experiences; hardened, vicious, cunning. But then they meet their match… in one another. And it changes the Republic for all time.
1. The Sith

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas authorwithissues and Young at Heart21; you guys are awesome.

Note 3: This fic is rated M for adult themes, sexuality, and language in later chapters. Please take the rating seriously.

**The Sith and the Senator **

**Chapter 1: The Sith**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**D**__arth __**V**__ader_

Life is so unpredictable. More often than not, this one fact is the bane of a being's existence. It makes one question why anyone bothers to plan at all. Life is _so_ predictably unpredictable that there are countless quotes that herald its spontaneity all the while cursing the life altering events that occur on its whim.

'If you fail to plan, you plan to fail', is a widely known saying, but, in my experience, inaccurate at the best of times. Rather, the saying should go 'if you plan at all, your plan will fail'. In my humble opinion, it is quite more fitting than the former quote.

For many years I thought I knew what my life would be like. It was all planned out by my master, after all. But then, Life looked down upon a poor slave boy, smirked and sent its chaos my way.

I could not be more grateful.

#*#*#*#*#

Perhaps a little history would be in order?

My life has been anything but a fairytale.

I have been a slave all of my life; first on Tatooine to Gardulla the Hut, then to Watto the Toydarian, and now to Darth Sidious, Lord of the Sith, my current master.

The mechanics behind the transference of ownership from Watto to Darth Sidious escapes me. I don't know when or where it happened. All I know is that one moment I was in Watto's shop, the next, in this cave.

Before coming here, I never knew who the Jedi were or what a Sith Lord was. That all changed the moment I became the property of one.

I quickly learned everything Sidious had to teach me. Most of his lessons were demonstrative and brought long-term scars; whippings, beatings, starvation. But it's not like I'm not used to such treatment: it pretty much goes along with being a slave.

Something beneficial has come from Sidious' cruelty, though. After years of living with this level of abuse, I learned not only to tolerate the pain, but to gain strength from it. Before, I merely endured it, but now, I embrace it.

This is why the guarantee of physical retaliation has never stopped me from speaking my mind and has instead become something in which I take extreme pride. It makes the pain I endure worthwhile and reminds me that my will is still intact.

Of course, this only serves to infuriate my master. He hasn't yet been able to break me and it enrages him. He did not expect it to be so difficult to do so and such is unacceptable to his sensibilities; he is a Sith Lord who cannot control his apprentice.

Control is everything to my master. As a result, he strongly believes in routine, in order. This particular trait is utilized to the fullest in my regard.

Every day, he locks me in a small cell, giving him the opportunity to play puppet master with the idiots in the Senate, all the while knowing that his slave is tucked safely away in a five by five hellhole of a cage.

Sidious does not let me out for days at a time. He only feeds me enough to keep me alive, but never strong. And he has been careful to ensure that I am in active pain when released from my cell.

This level of vigilance is quite novel. He had not always been so… meticulous in his dealings with me. Such painstaking security measures were only implemented after I attempted to escape my captivity years ago.

Obviously, my attempt at liberty failed. But I had been twelve at the time, and so high on the idea of being free that I had lost all sense of control, all sense of intelligence.

Sometimes I wonder if the whole 'escape' had been a trap to crush my hope, my spirit.

I can still remember the fear that I felt as I ran. There was no happiness, no joy, just _fear_…and urgency, a terrible sense of urgency. I had been so frightened, so hopeful for my freedom that I fled like a lamb from the slaughter. Too bad the butcher caught me.

Sidious had smiled when he saw me round the corner like a frightened shaak; he had enjoyed my terror, my utter horror at the realization that I would not escape. I don't like to think about what happened after that. Just suffice it to say that it had been a bad day, a very bad day indeed.

The memory would not be so… _mortifying_ if it had not been so _easy_ to capture me. Just the thought of it angers me to the point of violence. Later, after my flesh had been whipped and my blood shed, all I could think of was killing Sidious in a particularly spectacular fashion. It would have been painful… and slow. Maybe some Force lightning; that would be irony at its finest. Or perhaps something more traditional, like a hanging; that would have been wonderfully humiliating. The thoughts had made me smile even amidst my abject misery.

What's funny is that he had hoped that my failed escape attempt would break me; that I would resign myself to a life of slavery. But it did not. If nothing else, it made me all the more determined to escape, to destroy the being that caged me night and day. Something else came out of it too. The little boy who missed his mother died that day, and I fully embraced my rage, my reckless hatred: I became Darth Vader through and through.

From that day forward, it became my mission, no, my _duty_ to give Sidious hell. The reason is simple; after spending months watching the Dark Lord, I discovered his weakness. It was the one trait that stood out above all others: his arrogance.

Sidious he hates the fact that he is the Dark Lord of the Sith, but is unknown to the galaxy as such. It eats him alive that he so skillfully orchestrates the growing conflict in the galaxy yet no one knows that it's him pulling the strings. Although he knows he must do this in order for the plan of the Sith to come to fruition, it still kills him to be forced to smile in the faces of the Jedi and the Senate during the day, even as he seethes with poisonous hatred and overwhelming fury.

For me, this is both good and bad. Good in that it gives me the chance to test the sharpness of my barbs, bad in that his reaction to my words have brought me to death's door several times.

Since he doesn't have to hide his reactions 'at home' like he does when he's interacting with the outside world, he's rather… easy to rile. I curse him and he abuses me to his evil heart's content. Sometimes, I don't even have to say or do anything. He comes back to the cave and I'm suddenly electrocuted with Force lighting or abused in an equally horrendous way.

I guess he feel that just because he has to take it from the outside world doesn't mean that he has to take it from me. ...At least not without retaliation.

Even still, disrespect is his button, and I make it my business to push it as often as possible. The first time I purposely goaded him was a test. It was a painful yet informative day and it told me everything I needed to know.

Darth Sidious could be conquered. One day, _one day_, I would _crush_ Sidious and it would be his arrogance that would be his downfall.

#*#*#*#*#

'One day' came sooner than expected, and it took both of us by surprise.

It started off the same as any other; I was awakened by the vicious, indescribable pain of Force-lightning ripping through my body. The barrage of physical agony was accompanied by the lovely sound of my master's screams of fury. I was then beaten, forced to meditate on the Dark Side of the Force and given meager scraps of a substance that would not be classified as food in any civilized star system.

Yet even as it occurred, I could not shake the feeling that _something_ felt different. I could feel it; it was in the air, a subtle shift in the Force, a restlessness in my bones. It sunk into my skin and would not leave; it urged me on, whispered for me to act, to do _something_. So I did.

I used the only weapon that I had ever had: my mouth.

Normally, I would carefully ration my insults so as to not push my master too far, but today I couldn't bring myself to care. I would say what I had to say and Force damn the consequences.

Spewing out a continuous litany of obscenities and disrespect at Sidious achieved the desired effect. He lashed out at me, tearing at my skin and electrocuting me with Force lightning. Needless to say, I paid for my defiance; my badges of honor were the excess of burns and bruises mapped across my skin.

Though my body screamed in agony, and I felt an unconscionable rage well within me, I was vindicated in my efforts. Sidious' failure to cow me infuriated him to the point of incoherence and as a result, he did something he never does. He broke routine.

His mistake was so unexpected, so… _simple_, that it took me a while to realize that it wasn't an elaborate trap he set up to manipulate me.

An hour after he left, I glanced at the door of my cage and became curious as to why it looked strange. It only took a moment to crawl to the door of the cell, to gingerly push it open with a light touch to the metal.

My eyes widened in astonishment as I realized what it meant; so distracted and inflamed was Sidious by his inability to break me that he had forgotten to lock my cage. My master had honest-to-evil forgotten to lock my cage.

I had been astounded, had basked in the glorious surge of blind, hate-tinted joy that ripped had through me when the realization hit. I could not believe it. I had not thought that the time to destroy Sidious would come so quickly and at such a perfect opportunity as well. Who knew that a mistake as simple as turning a key would cost Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, his life?

Filled with vicious glee, I remained in my cage and bided my time, allowing my body to recover from the effects of the Force Lightning. All I needed was just enough time to heal, just enough strength in my body… I lay there, relishing the thoughts of what I would do, anticipating the dark, savage ecstasy that would rip through the Dark Side of the Force when I ended Sidious' life.

When he returned a few hours later, the Dark Lord immediately and condescendingly made his way to my cage, clearly angry and ready to torture me once again.

It was then that I acted.

As long as I live, I will never forget the look on Sidious' face when I strolled out of the cage, head high, a predatory snarl on my face. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open as I stalked toward him. He was afraid! He was _afraid_… of _me_! The feeling of being feared by my tormenter was amazing… _indescribable_. Mind-numbing elation ripped through my being as I realized that my time had come. It had really, _truly_ come!

Despite my euphoria, it was not as easy to kill Sidious as expected. As I fought him, it was then that I truly appreciated his abilities and had I not been so sure of my victory, it would have terrified me.

He was powerful, immensely so, and the bastard fought me with everything in him. But although Sidious' fighting technique was perfect and his skills flawless, I was stronger. There was no way his anger or hatred could rival mine: his was a stream, mine, a tsunami. All it took were the memories of abuse; the memories of helplessness, of inconsolable fury and my anger rose like a roaring gundark.

Fueled by my rage and hatred, I channeled all my negative emotions into the Dark Side, and it immediately responded to my call. Gathering the Dark Side of the Force, I ripped Sidious' lightsaber out of his hand, then, with a leap and a flash of red, I decapitated the arrogant Sith Lord, pausing only to watch my former master's head roll from his shoulders.

It was spectacular, _marvelous_! _Truly_ the most glorious moment of all my years!

When his head hit the floor with a thud, I simply stood there, frozen in the surrealism of my triumph. I don't know how long it was before I moved, but when I did, it felt like the weight of a thousand shackles had fallen from my body.

For the first time in my life, I was _free_.

#*#*#*#*#

It is in the late afternoon that I find myself lounging at the long table in the dining hall, sipping on the sparkling liquid in my glass. It's Corellian brandy; cheap, common, horribly made… and totally delicious.

Normally, the burn would be unpleasant, but now it is delightful. Lazily, I move the glass in a deliberate, unhurried circle, idly studying the bubbles slowly drift to the surface of the clear brown liquid.

"This has to be the best thing I've ever tasted in my life," I comment thoughtfully, moving the glass close to my nose. "It smells nice too."

I stare at the glass for a moment before taking another sip of the liquid. Doing so helps focus my thoughts. It is roughly the color of warm sand and drudges up long buried memories of Tatooine; memories of gazing upon the sand, lost in thought and dreaming of freedom. It was a favorite pastime of mine, and, apparently, the urge to do so still lies within.

A sigh of pleasure escapes my lips as I take another sip, the effect of the drink compounding my already euphoric high. It's probably not the smartest idea to imbibe, but I am celebrating, so allowances can be made.

My moment of utter victory had occurred several hours ago. It had been quite strenuous, so it's no wonder I am hungry now. And since I am leaving this place, it's only polite to have dinner with my master one last time.

I smile, showing all my teeth as I incline my head to my dining companion.

There, at the opposite end of the table, sits Sidious' corpse. I put it there myself, had even lovingly placed the detached head on the shoulders of the body, making it sit upright so that it faces me. It looks as though Sidious is still alive… well, besides the whole dead look he has going on.

I study the corpse, unable to do anything but love the look of horror and fear still etched on my _former_ master's despicable face. He is dead, _dead_! I am _free_! It almost makes me wish for a way to kill him again, and again, and again. Surely there is nothing in the galaxy better than this feeling of _power_.

I lean back thoughtfully in my chair as the thought crosses my mind. _Power_. It is one of the greatest lures of the Dark Side. It sings in my veins, calls me to greater, darker, more dangerous heights of control, of dominance. _But_…

After pausing for a moment, and closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to center myself.

It is to my betterment to learn from Sidious' mistakes. Hubris had been his weakness, but I will not allow power to be mine.

It's ironic, really, that for someone who touted himself as a genius, it was something as cliché as conceit that caused Sidious' downfall. Forgetting to lock the door was a part of it, but he lost control simply because he could not handle my words. It was arrogance, _pride_ that had ultimately been Darth Sidious' doom.

He had been a _fool_. Both of us knew that by last year my power had grown beyond his. Yet Sidious had persisted in his quest to beat me into submission, to break me, hoping that, in time, I would be too broken in spirit to fight him even if my strength _was_ greater. But Sidious had been _wrong_ and had paid the price of death for his folly.

"I am the master of my own destiny," I snarl at the corpse, hatred tinting every nuance of my voice. "I am slave to _no_ man."

I smile suddenly, savagely, baring my teeth at him like a rabid dog. "I truly despise you, Sidious." I glare at him a moment longer before realizing how ridiculous I must look, shooting deadly looks at an already dead man. Shaking my head I allow my anger to drain away. There is no need to be angry anymore. I am a slave no longer.

I cock my head at my dead companion. "You know what, Sidious?" I muse aloud, drumming on the table. "I find myself in a conundrum. Destroying you has really been the only thing on my mind for as long as I can remember. To tell you the truth, I honestly don't know what to do now that you're dead."

I take another sip of my drink. "I'm a Sith, so I think I'm going to take over the Galaxy." I pause and add as an afterthought, "…And destroy the Jedi.

"The great thing about this," I continue, "Is that you've already told me your plan for doing _all_ of these things. So, I do want to thank you for your contribution to my reign of the Galaxy. I'll be sure to mention you in the credits, years from now, when they make a holovid about my genius."

I push myself from the table and drop into a seat next to the corpse. "I really hated you," I murmur, leaning close and staring intensely at it. "But I do have to thank you for teaching me everything that you know. Not that you realized it, of course. You thought you were teaching me just enough to be useful and not enough to be a threat to you. But through the Force, I was able to spy on you and everything you did in this place."

I sit back in the chair, frowning at the still body. "And I have to tell you, old man. Some of the things I saw have scarred me for life. You were really, truly a disgusting guy." I shake my head, amused despite myself.

"We both knew that I was stronger than you, but what you didn't know is that I'm able to do things with the Force that you can only _imagine_." Smirking at the corpse, I step away from the table.

"Oh, Force!" I exclaim, stretching stiff limbs. "It's so good to be _free_."

I pause upon noticing the sightless eyes of the corpse on me. "Oh, stop looking at me that way!" I say jauntily. "We both knew that I would kill you one day. It's the way of the Sith, after all. You just probably never thought that it would be so soon. Well, I didn't either, so both of us are surprised."

Walking to a nearby hidden closet, I open it and take out Sidious' most prized possession: the cloak he obtained from a fallen Jedi. At a glance, the beige wool appears cheap, but after running my hands across the fabric, I find it to be of a cool, smooth texture. It is a truly eloquent garment, worthy of a Sith Lord—and now it belongs to _me_.

Shifting through the rest of Sidious' belongings, it is easy to decide to leave most of it behind. I'm leaving this hellhole and starting a new life; I don't want to take anything with me. And just to make myself feel utterly spectacular, I'm going to burn this shithole to the ground. Take _that_, Sidious.

"You know, you should be proud of me," I tell the corpse, throwing the cloak around my shoulders. "I finally learned what you wanted to teach me…and some you didn't." Grinning evilly, I trot to another hidden compartment, this time in the wall. It never would have been found if I hadn't spied upon Sidious opening it once. Its dark brown tone blends seamlessly into the wall and only opens when you press on it just so… With a squeal, it swings open, revealing credits, a bunch of papers and electric charges.

After stuffing the credits and papers into a bag, I begin to carefully place the charges all around the cave.

"Come now, don't be angry!" I call out to the form slumped at the table across the room. "Your plans are still going to come to fruition, I promise you. The Jedi will die and the galaxy will be under the reign of the Sith. Only, it's going to be Emperor Vader, not Emperor Sidious." I hold the last of the charges and place it right next to Sidious' corpse. Satisfied with my work, I head for the entrance.

Without another glance look, I leave the cave. Safe in my spacecraft, I turn the ship around just in time to see the explosion. The cave implodes in a dazzling display of light and fire. I sigh and place the transport on autopilot as I throw my legs on the console to watch the show.

"I love fireworks," I say quietly, smirking.

I take a deep breath and pull the Dark Side closer, allowing it to cradle me. This is it; I'm finally free. I take a moment to bask in the thought, to allow it to empower me. Where to start? I have been away from the rest of the galaxy for so long…

The thought briefly crosses my mind to contact my mother, but I dismiss it just as quickly. It has been years since I have seen her, but I'm not naïve enough to believe that she would be happy to see me as I am. …It would be best for me to just move on. She would be horrified at what I have become and it would probably kill her to see me as I am now.

It's strange, but I still remember the name she gave me: Anakin Skywalker. I have not heard or thought of that name in a long time. In truth, it seems like a name from another life, another person. I suppose I have no feelings on the matter, though; I'm not that person anymore, I'm Darth Vader and I quite like who I am.

It is now that I realize something: I'm the Lord of the Sith. I am Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith and, at fourteen, I am probably the youngest ever. The thought fills me immense pride and elicits a strange giddy, tingling sensation in my belly.

_I am Darth Vader_, _Dark Lord of the Sith. _I repeat to myself, enjoying the way it sounds. _I am Darth Vader, Slayer of Darth Sidious. _

After trying different variations of my name, I finally take control of the ship and blast away…leaving my enslavement behind. If I could have, I would have burned the damn planet, too. According to Sidious' plan, such a feat will be possible one day. The thought excites me immensely.

_You better watch out,_ I tell the planet silently, _because you're going to be the first kriffing system to go. _

I clutch the controls of the ship, elated at the power that it gives. I have always loved to fly and even though it's been years since I've done it, the feeling that it elicits has not gone away. The rush of adrenaline, the acceleration of the ship pushing me back into my seat, the absolute control that I have over where I go; it's intoxicating.

Excitement pools in my stomach as the stars of space become visible through the reddish haze of the thermosphere. "Here I come, galaxy," I say, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Darth Vader has arrived."

End of 1st Chapter: If you liked it, review it!

**Chapter 2: The Senator**: Meet Padmé Amidala

***Updated November 7, 2011****


	2. The Senator

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas, authorwithissues and Young at Heart 21; you guys are awesome.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 2: The Senator**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**P**__admé __**A**__midala_

I wish that I could murder and get away with it. I know that sounds strange, but I really, _really_ mean it. I wouldn't kill anyone innocent, just the scum of the universe like this slut talking to me right now. I would take a blaster, pull the trigger, and blow her away with a smile on my face. It wouldn't be _entirely_ selfish; I'm positive the galaxy would be a better place without her.

I, Queen Padmé Amidala, smile as said slut, Senator Dina Flores, continues to chatter about something that means absolutely nothing to me.

I know I should call a halt to my line of thinking, but I can't seem to. I hate hypocrites and liars, which is really funny considering my choice of career. My excuse, horrible though it may be, is that I didn't know any better when I was younger. To me, being a politician seemed as worthy a cause as I could possibly choose. But believe me, _that_ opinion changed faster than I can say "political intrigue"—which is pretty damn fast, by the way—when I became Queen of Naboo. And now, because of a poor decision made in my youth, I am now standing here smiling at my enemy and pretending that I'm not dreaming of blowing her lovely face off.

"Padmé!"

I look up as my boyfriend, Ian, comes upon us. Oh…_great_.

"I was looking for you," he says, looking at me through his eyelashes. "Why are you over here hiding with…" He turns to Senator Flores inquiringly, as though he does not know her name.

That's really interesting, him not knowing her name, especially since he was screwing her in the opera fresher last night. I guess when you're busy having sex all over the stalls, it's hard to catch a person's name. But Ian gave an _amazing_ performance just now. He _really_ should have been an actor instead of an artist.

I didn't realize that I voiced the thought aloud until I saw the horrified looks of shock on their faces. Their mouths hung open and, for a moment, I think Ian forgot how to breathe.

"Oh?" I say coyly, eyebrows lifting in clearly feigned surprised. "Did I say that out loud?"

Hearing a choking sound behind me, I turn around to find that not only had I said it aloud, but it had been quite… vocal. Politicians all around stared at us in various degrees of horror and interest.

Ignoring them, I keep my focus on the enemies. Despite knowing that I am a part of a brewing scandal, I don't care about my slip; I'm _happy_ I said it. It feels so good to say what's on my mind for _once_.

"Padmé," Ian begins, moving toward me and grabbing my arm, his eyes darting between the growing crowd of spectators, myself, and Flores, who is still staring at me in astonishment. "It didn't mean anything, I swear! I love you—"

"Don't you dare put your fucking hands on me!" I cry in fury, eyes growing cold as ice crystals as I savagely rip my arm out of his hand.

"And it's _Queen Amidala_ to you! Now, spare me your sentimental drivel! If your love means that you hump other women in your spare time, then you can keep it because I don't want it!"

I finish draining my drink in a wholly unladylike fashion before throwing it at his worthless head. It bounces off harmlessly, but the look of stupidity and surprise on his face is worth it.

Before I turn to leave, I pause and look at him. "We're over, by the way," I voice as sweetly as I am capable. "I hope you and your little tart have a nice life together."

With that, I walk away, vastly satisfied with what just occurred. That was _such_ a relief. I killed two birds with one stone; I told the hussy of the galaxy off and let go of some dead weight. I guess tonight _wasn'_t a complete waste of my time.

The crowd parts in a wave as I make my way to the refreshment table. It's hard not to hear the strident whispers as I pass, but I don't bother to listen. I don't care what they're saying about me.

Arriving at the refreshment table, I procure another glass of liquor, nodding gracefully to my fellow politicians as I pass. They return blank stares, and I have to turn away to hide my smile. Are they afraid of me now? And just for throwing an empty plastic cup at someone's head? That's _rich_!

After I retrieve a new drink, I wander into a dark corner of the ballroom, seeking what little solitude I can manage in a room filled to the brim with people. It's not that difficult, actually. After my little display, everyone is all too happy to leave me be.

As I watch the Senators mingle, I cannot help but compare what I see to the soap operas that show on the Holovid. They stalk each other, each Senator seeking out potential allies for their own agenda. They hunt their prey, taking down the feeble and systematically weakening the strong. It is nothing more than a big game, and the victories go to the people who know that and play it the best.

But I am not a pawn in their games. I am a Queen…no, I am _the _Queen, the most powerful piece on the board; they just don't realize it yet. But they _will_ and when they do, they will rue the day they underestimated me.

I scan the room and then groan upon spotting something rather unpleasant: Senator Mon Mothma is walking swiftly but gracefully through the crowd… and clearly making a beeline for me.

I have little doubt that she wants to talk to me about Ian which means that the Senatorial Grapevine has struck again. Not that it needed much time, considering what I did. But it's still amazing. Who needs a comlink when you have a room full of gossips?

"Senator Mon Mothma," I say pleasantly, pasting a smile on my face. "How are you this fine evening?"

"Queen Amidala," the older senator—by two years—begins without preamble. "Can we go somewhere private and talk?"

I frown and force myself to resist a roll of the eyes. If it had been anyone else, I would have politely declined with a lie about having to be present at the party at all times, but Senator Mothma is someone I consider a close acquaintance, if not a friend, so I am obligated to go. Besides, she would have seen through my falsehood in a heartbeat.

With a slight nod I follow Mothma to a nearby room. As soon as the door closes, I turn to her.

"How may I help you today?" I say, smiling brightly at her. "Because we're having such a fabulous party and I'm eager to get back—"

"Padmé," she says tiredly, shaking her head. "Cut the act. Did you just break up with Ian Lago?"

"Yes? So what?" I say, taking another sip of my drink. I'm sure she hears my unspoken, 'why do you care', but typical Mon Mothma ignores it.

"Padmé! Ian is in love with you! I know you've had a rough go with relationships, but you had no reason to break it off with him! If you would _just_—"

"If by no reason," I cut her off, my anger erupting, "you mean catching him in the act of banging Senator Flores in the ladies' fresher at the opera last night, then, no, I had no good reason to break it off with him."

Mothma's eyes widen at the news. She is properly shocked, which is what I wanted. Too bad it didn't shut her up.

"I'm very sorry, Padmé," she says finally, "both for jumping to conclusions and for what he did. I was just hoping so very much that…"

"I would settle down with him?" I suggest, raising an eyebrow. "Fall in love with him?"

"Yes, actually." She hesitates before saying quietly, "I know that what happened during Naboo's invasion changed you…but I still want you to at least _try_ to have a normal life—"

"You're right," I interrupt, walking to the window. "I _was_ changed by the invasion. Watching your handmaidens be systematically raped and killed does that to you." I stare out at the bustling light of Coruscant, but the sight that once made me gasp in awe now brings me no peace.

"You were spared Padmé! They didn't touch you! Doesn't that count for _anything_?"

"They spared me because I am _Queen_!" I cry harshly, turning to the other Senator. "They thought that it was okay to torture my closest friends right in front of me, yet spare me and all because I have a silly title! I watched those monsters violate and abuse them! I watched strong, proud women break under the onslaught of that horror and I could do nothing but listen to their screams until finally, they were silenced…" I pause, unable to go on, my voice choking on the horror of resurfaced memories.

"Padmé," Mothma begins, her bright eyes gleaming with regret, her voice wavering, "I'm sorry—"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me you're sorry!" I bite out, eyes flashing. "If you or any of those animals in that ballroom were sorry, the Senate would have agreed to help us! You would not have ignored our plight; you would not have forced Naboo to resort to such desperate measures to regain our freedom. We would not have lost so many of our people…" I break off, trying desperately to push back the emotions threatening to shatter my carefully constructed façade. I will not break down; I _refuse_ to break down, especially in front of an audience…even Mon Mothma.

I take a deep breath in an attempt to clear the tears in my throat. "Just leave," I tell her quietly. "_Leave._"

Turning away, I close my eyes, furiously trying to calm myself down. It's so quiet, now, as though the gravity of our words have pierced the very air around us. The tension is palpable and it's wearing on my already thin control. First Ian and now Mothma. Why could they not leave me alone?

After a long moment and without another word, the older woman heads for the door. But before she closes it, she turns to me and says, sadness permeating her voice, "I am so sorry, Padmé."

As soon as the door shuts behind her, I grab a nearby chair pillow and, pulling it tightly over my face, scream with all my might. Why does everyone always think that they know what's best for me? Why does everyone think that they understand what I'm going through? They don't know _anything_; not about me and not about how I feel! All any of them know is Padmé Naberrie, political wonder child of Naboo! They don't know _anything_ about the woman I have become!

My hold on the pillow loosens and I allow it to fall to the floor. I close my eyes for just a moment before walking to the window once again. Although I stare out into the night, my eyes are unseeing.

The invasion of Naboo taught me something very important: there are people in this galaxy who truly deserve death, and that, a thousand times over. Diplomacy? Reasoning? They're just words to these people. You cannot reason with a savage animal, a wild gundark. The only thing you can do is put them down.

But more than that, it taught me that only the strong survive in this galaxy. When Naboo needed help, the one body with the power to help, the Galactic Senate, denied it to us, to the devastation of my home world. During the invasion, as I fired blasters through the ranks of the droids and stepped over the bodies of my fallen comrades, I realized that the only person you can depend on is yourself. You cannot not rely on the good of others, cannot rely on justice. Justice does not exist for the weak and the poor; thinking that it does will only bring disappointment and almost certainly death.

And then for Mon Mothma to mention something as elusive and idealistic as love? It makes me want to _hurl_! Romantic love is a complete and total fallacy made up by teenagers who watch too much Holovid. That type of heart-stopping, mind-numbing devotion does not exist.

Placing a hand on the window, I smile sadly. Just as this glass separates me from the denizens of Coruscant, my experiences separate me from everyone I knew before the invasion. Truly, the sweet, innocent, newly elected Queen of Naboo no longer exists. Padmé Naberrie is gone forever and Queen Amidala now lives in her place.

As I leave the window and take a seat on the couch, I cannot help but marvel at the change in me. When I was first elected Queen, I was _so _excited. I had thought that I finally had the power to change my planet, no, the _galaxy,_ for the better. It wasn't until later that I realized how little power I actually had.

What a _fool_ I was then, so naïve, so sickeningly innocent. But no longer; I have awakened to the reality of the ways of life and now that I have that knowledge, I can never go back.

I suppose I should be proud of myself. I am nineteen years old, have been Queen of Naboo for six years, but it took me less than a year to realize the truth. It was a lesson hard learned, but it had been learned indeed.

Mothma was right about one thing: the invasion of Naboo _did_ change me, but I am the only one who seems to think that it was for the better. Don't mistake my meaning; there are some things that I now have knowledge of that I would have rather not known.

I have lost many people that I did not want to lose, good friends that are gone forever. But I am stronger because of it, or at least, that's what I keep telling myself. I have to say it, have to believe it, because if I don't, I will break.

I know what my colleagues say about me behind my back. They speculate in loud whispers about my experiences during Naboo's invasion, about how different I am now. They say that I am tougher, that I lack political correctness… they're not compliments.

Padmé Naberrie would have been concerned that her fellow politicians believe that she is… damaged. But me, Queen Amidala? I really can't bring myself to give a damn.

End of Chapter 2: **Please review! =]**

**Chapter 3: The Answer To The Question**: Vader's life after Sidious.

****Updated November 10, 2011****

****Updated December 2, 2011****

****Updated December 5, 2011**  
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	3. The Answer to the Question

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas authorwithissues and Young at Heart21. You guys are great.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 3: The Answer to the Question**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**D**__arth __**V**__ader_

Why are we born?

It's a question that I'm quite sure many others have asked themselves. Some have probably even squandered away their lives, despairing of ever answering it.

But, for me, at fifteen years old, it is less of a question and more of an answer.

It's the answer to the chaos in the galaxy, the utter disorder that plagues civilization.

I've always known that I was different, that I was special. Even on Tatooine, amongst my so-called friends, I was considered strange, set apart from them somehow. The separation only grew worse when I won the Boonta Eve Classic against Sebulba.

At the time, all had seemed well as my friends and I laughed, played, and ate together. I was utterly oblivious then, secure in my world, unaware that the people around me were changing, that the hearts of those who were supposed to care for me had begun to turn to stone.

I did not see the gleam of apprehension in their eyes, the wariness… the fear. I did not hear their whispers of how I could do things that normal people should not be able to, that I had powers they could not understand… that I was a threat.

I remember clearly the day my friends truly turned into enemies; I do not think I will ever forget.

I was nine.

#*#*#*#*#

It was in the evening that I ventured out to the junkyard not far from Mos Espa. Although it was scorching hot and unusually humid, I was excited. It was the day I would finally procure the rest of the items that would allow me to complete the 3PO unit for my mother. I made my way to the back of the junkyard, knowing that the parts I needed would most likely be there. I practically knew the place by heart as my friends and I went there often to play, usually posing as either pirates or bounty hunters. On that day, though, I was a scavenger.

Rummaging through the piles of scrap, I found eye lights, some much needed screws and quite a few scraps of battered, but usable, plating to cover the droid's body. There were even a few with gold coating—perfect, since my mom adored the rich color.

I had been there for an hour when I heard someone approach.

I grinned in delight upon hearing familiar voices. I had almost gotten all the parts for the droid and was ready for some fun. Maybe we could grab a few moments of play before going home for supper.

I peered over the junk, a mischievous smirk curling my lip, an impish plan forming to scare the sand out of my friend's clothes.

It was then I heard the words… Skywalker… weird… scary… _freak_.

I crouched there, stunned, my eyes wide with disbelief.

Wait… weren't they my friends? We…we played together! We ate those tasty little crumpets from Mrs. Po's shop together! We had sworn the oath of blood brothers! And they had said my powers were cool! How could they talk about me this way?

I turned away and slid down the dirtied hull of a long-grounded ship, hoping that it would hide me from their sight. My heart beat a cadence against my hollow chest and it felt like someone was squeezing it, as though it would burst at any second. For a moment, I didn't think I could breathe.

I don't know how long I sat there before getting up, but by the time I did, the ring of their laughter and the rumble of their boots had long since faded.

I went home late that night. When I trudged in, my mother jumped up and wrapped her arms around me. I could feel her trembling, could taste her fear that something had happened to me, her relief that I was okay.

But her arms did not warm me.

The next day, when my _friends_ came to me with a gleam in their eyes and false smiles on their lips, I greeted them in turn, putting on a mask of happiness and warmth. We went through the ritual, smacking hands, laughing, and joking before heading out to the sand pits to our podracers. It had been decided the day before that we would spend the whole day proving who the fastest amongst us was.

What they didn't know was that the façade had been shattered; I knew they had lied, that they had never been my friends.

What they didn't know was that I had awakened quite early to make some… _modifications_ to their racers.

An hour later, I looked on in cold satisfaction as four of my seven_ friends_ were flown into Mos Eisley for emergency medical treatment. One of their podracers had exploded, leaving the rider in critical condition; the doctor wasn't sure he was going to make it. The other three boys were drowning in various degrees of agony; there had been a broken leg, a shattered knee… a severed arm…

Later that night, in the warmth of my home, I stared at the wall. I had done it; I had punished my _peers_ for hurting me. I couldn't help but sneer at the thought. Yes, I had made my _former_ friends pay.

It made me feel… strange. I knew what I had done would be considered wrong and sick, but I… I…

I felt nothing.

Perhaps that's why I felt off; I felt nothing when I knew I should have.

Pursing my lips and turning to work on 3PO, I shut my mind down, dismissing speculation on what I had done.

I had drawn a line in the sand and crossed it and somehow it was clear to me that I had lost more than just my friends.

As I later lay in bed, I realized that although the pain of their betrayal had not gone away with my actions, I had gained something that allowed me to sleep soundly that night.

_Revenge_.

#*#*#*#*#

After that incident, everyone stayed away from me. They all suspected me, knew that I had somehow done it; they simply had no proof.

Being ostracized from society was… interesting. No one would talk to me, no one would sell anything to me, and I often found myself running home to escape the wrath of former acquaintances.

While my mother grieved and anxiously sought to protect me against the world, I did nothing.

I didn't care that I was no longer accepted into their disgusting social sphere. I did not belong with them.

It's funny, but I felt more at home in the cage than I ever did on Tatooine. From the moment I opened my eyes and looked out at the cave through steel bars, it felt like I was home. For the first time in my life, I _belonged_.

It was not the torture or the abuse. It was not the malevolent gleam in Sidious' eyes or his obvious penchant for the perverse. It was the aura that hovered in the air, the presence that recognized me as surely as I recognized it. It was the _Force_.

It had always been there, had always been a part of me. But, finally, I had a name for it, I could control it. Never before had I been so close to it, never before had I felt it flow so actively through me.

Eager to learn more about the Force, I fervently absorbed everything Sidious had to teach me. I could not learn enough; I ever wanted to know more about this energy that gave me such power.

It did not take long for the fruits of my labors to become apparent. I learned how to see into the future, how to meditate, how to bend the Force to my will. It was more than fun, the word _fun_ nearly bordering on sacrilege.

It was _life changing_. I felt… happiness, elation, freedom, power, a sense of closeness to the Force… it was like being welcomed home by doting a parent.

Sometimes I wondered why Sidious struggled to do things that came so easily to me. I wondered why I was able to spy on him without his knowledge. I wondered why I could look into his mind when he could not look into mine.

The answer came to me after being with the Dark Lord for a month and it was swift, striking.

Even among the extraordinary, I am exceptional.

It was then that the truth became startlingly clear: I, not Sidious, would be the one to restore order to the galaxy.

That's when I deemed it unacceptable to be a slave, to be below Sidious. I have always been _temperamental_ and unwilling to bend, but with the advent of my epiphany, I realized that it was deeper than that.

It was my destiny to control the galaxy. It had to be. Why else would the Force bestow such power upon me? Why else would it whisper to me in the dead of night, soothing me, allaying my fears? Why else would it find me worthy?

The realization created a euphoria that was almost frightening.

The Force had chosen me, Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith and given me the power to conquer the galaxy.

It was my right to rule.

#*#*#*#*#

After destroying Sidious, I was directionless.

For a while, I simply wandered the galaxy, enjoying my freedom. I drank so much I thought my liver would explode and there was no such thing as too much fun. I indulged my every whim and had an amazing time doing it. That is, until the utter _incompetence_ of my existence began to grate on me, before I looked into the mirror and realized that the Dark Lord of the Sith was doing nothing more than whoring in a ratty hovel in the lower levels of Coronet City.

It was unconscionable.

I suppose it had to happen, that I had to get it out of my system. It did not lessen my shame, did not make me any less angry with myself. But it _had_ given me ample time to relax and enjoy freedom, to gain the initiative to become a Sith in deed instead of just name.

It did not take me long to discover that it was much easier said than done.

Sidious had been a master at manipulation, a master at controlling those around him. It spoke of my naivety that I had thought I could simply swoop into his place and all would be well, that everyone would respect me as the destroyer of Darth Sidious, that they would hear my voice, chilly as ice, and fear me, falling over themselves to do my bidding.

It's almost laughable how foolish that was.

By some happenstance, Sidious' acquaintances found out that he was dead and his every contact grew cold. They would not answer to me, would not respond to my summons. I did not even know how to _find_ them to punish their insolence.

It was infuriating.

I was a Dark Lord without any power.

I searched frantically for Sidious' minions, trying to restore control that I never truly held in the first place. I spent many hours, days, months searching and scouring the underbelly of society for Sidious' minions. I perfected my interrogation methods, left a slew of bodies in my wake and still, I could not find them.

But after much meditation and even more help from the Force, I located one of his former lackeys.

They had been waiting for me, had wanted to destroy the Sidious-in-the-making. Apparently they didn't like being manipulated, threatened and blackmailed. They would not allow me to become like him.

I barely escaped with my life.

As I huddled in a corner of a dark alley, eyes wide, my shoulder bleeding from a well-placed blaster shot, I realized that I had become the very thing that I had accused Sidious of being: a fool.

Thus far, I had carried myself in the manner of a child and had nearly paid the ultimate price for my arrogance. Interesting that the downfall of Darth Vader could have been the same as Darth Sidious': pride.

I retreated to the Sith sanctuary on the planet Thule. I had been there once with Sidious and, although I had not been allowed entrance—he had sneeringly pointed out that I was not worthy to lick the dust from his boots, much less enter a sacred Sith sanctuary—I still remember the place.

I will never forget that temple. It had loomed ahead like a fortress and I could almost see the dark energies swirling around the hidden sanctuary, could feel the dark whispers of the Force whisper across my skin.

I was instantly enthralled, completely captivated. I had craved entrance, had craved to catch a glimpse of its secrets. I was not able to explore it then, but now that Sidious is dead and no longer able to control my fate, I will finally be able to look upon its wonders.

There are several Sith sanctuaries hidden across the galaxy, but Thule is the only one I am familiar with, and the one that has what I need: the great Sith Archives. The collection holds countless Sith holocrons chronicling the history of the order, the secrets of the sect.

That knowledge has to be mine.

After falling victim to pride and endangering my life, after wandering the galaxy without a purpose, I know that I am not yet ready to rule the galaxy.

I had allowed Sidious to lull me into a false sense of security. He had made it look so easy, so simple to control it all.

I should have known it was not. I credit the lack of knowledge to my youth, but will not allow that to hurt me anymore.

#*#*#*#*#

After the three-day trip to Thule, I enter the temple with minimum effort, using the Force to duplicate the ritual I had witnessed Sidious perform. It takes much longer to find the hidden entrance to the library as it is very well hidden in the lower levels of the massive temple.

Discovering it was actually an accident. Walking into the lower levels of the temple is like trying to navigate through a highly congested asteroid field. One wrong move and you're dead. It can be poison, it can be daggers, it can even be something as crude as being crushed by a boulder.

I am edging along the walls when I trip over a latch sticking out from the stones. I close my eyes immediately, expecting to be cut, smashed, or stabbed. Instead, the gray, stone wall right next to me shifts, revealing the entrance to the Archives.

Stepping inside, my jaw drops open in awe. The holocrons are innumerable and line every centimeter of the walls, filling every inch of gold and wine-colored shelves. I feel a chill creep down my spine as I gaze down the seemingly endless rows of cataloged data.

This is the secret Sith Archive; all the knowledge and experience of a millennium worth of Sith history, lore, and culture are right here in front of me.

The importance of the moment stuns me and suddenly, all I want to do is gaze upon it, wholly cognizant of the fact that I am one of few who has ever and will ever behold its glory.

Closing my eyes, I allow the significance of it all to fill me, and, as it does, Sidious' words rush into my mind.

_Knowledge is power. There is nothing else. You must have knowledge of the Force, knowledge of others, knowledge of self. When you submerge yourself in the Dark Side, when you feel it running through your veins as blood, then shall you have the power to know all._ Sidious' eyes had glowed as he spoke, and I had listened to his words with every fiber of my being.

_The Sith will control the galaxy through the use of unrestrained, unrepressed information. The Jedi_—Sidious had sneered the word as though it was something disgusting—_will tell you that there are things that should remain hidden, that there are things of which no being should have knowledge. _

_But that is why they will fail, my apprentice. _He had hissed in satisfaction. My eyes never wavered from his, even as my master's eyes glowed a demonic red in the darkness. _They fear absolute power, the absolute truth of emotion, of hate, fear, even love. _The last words had floated through the air, shocking me. The self-righteous Jedi feared love? Wasn't that what they stood for?

Sidious' dark laughter had floated through the chamber. _Does this surprise you? That the Jedi would deny even love? _His face had grown cold, mirthless. _The Jedi would deny everything that would strip them of their control. You see, the Sith and the Jedi are not so different. They simply fear their power, seek to restrain it, to control it. But, the Sith, we are masters of all, we know no fear. _

He had paused then and turned and walked to my cage. I instinctively stood to meet him, my eyes wide as they bored into his.

_Knowledge, my little slave, _he had said softly with a smirk, his eyes gleaming as he watched my anger flare at his words. _Knowledge is the power of the Sith and the undoing of the Jedi. _

I blink, dispelling the memory. Sidious had been right. I need more power and the only way I can get it is by learning from those who have come before me.

It is strange that it was his words that I hear, his words that give me direction. But it is fitting as well. Sidious was never meant to rule, only to introduce me to the Force, forge a sword out of chipped, broken metal.

The corpse _had_ to have had a purpose, after all.

Banishing Sidious from my thoughts, I walk to the holocron in the middle of the room. It sits on a pedestal with a bright light shining on it; it's obviously important, so I will start there.

I grab it gingerly, feeling the heavy weight in my palms. Running my fingers over the written words that make grooves into its side, I gaze at the name engraved there: _Darth Bane_.

So this is the holocron of the great Darth Bane. I smile slightly as excitement begins to build in my chest. This may be more interesting than I had previously thought. After all, how many people get the chance to hear the words of Darth Bane?

Holding the holocron away from my body, I concentrate. It can only be opened using the Dark Side and it takes a great deal of willpower to activate. Good thing I have enough to power a planet.

My eyes widen in anticipation as it opens and a deep voice begins to speak:

_The rule of two…_

_Two there should be; no more, no less. _

_One to embody power, the other to crave it…_

I smirk as an overwhelming, insane sense of triumph fills me, making me feel as though my chest will burst apart from the intensity of it.

This is it! This is _it_! The key to my victory!

I begin to laugh, knowing that I probably sounded insane but not caring in the least. My voice mixes with Bane's, the present mixing with the past. It bounces off the wall and echoes throughout the library.

Like a sacred rite, it marks the beginning of a new age of the Sith.

I cannot not wait to get started.

End of Chapter 3: Please review guys! =]

**Chapter Four: A Second Wind**: Amidala makes a decision.


	4. A Second Wind

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas authorwithissues and Young at Heart 21. You guys are great.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 4: A Second Wind **

**By WrittinInStone**

_**P**__admé __**A**__midala_

In three days, it will be over.

I sit back in the comfort of my seat and stare out at the window stoically, ignoring the other people in the transport as I watch the stars streak by at lightspeed. The guards have long since left the room, and my handmaidens sit in the corner whispering amongst themselves, dipping their heads together, and exchanging secret smiles.

In three days' time, I will no longer be Queen of Naboo. I will simply be Padmé Amidala, citizen of Naboo.

It's hard to believe I've been queen for eight years already and that I am twenty-one years old. I feel fifty.

The last days of my rule seem to stretch out like years. It's filled with busy politicians, make-up artists, hairdressers and _foolishness_. Although I begrudge the evil that is royal ritual, I know it's necessary. The Royal Advisory Council is in the last stages of completing the preparations for the ceremony wherein I will abdicate rule of Naboo to the newly elected Queen Jamillia. This is the process and I accept that. It has been this way for many centuries and I am not arrogant enough to think that it will change simply on my whim.

To say I am relieved that my time as queen is over would not be… _accurate_. I suppose I should be happy, but I feel nothing.

Why should I?

As I look back over my rule, I realize just how little I actually accomplished. I know it's not what my people would say about me, or even what historians _will_ say. But how the hell does that matter when I can barely look at myself in the mirror? I cannot rid myself of the hollowness that ache in my chest, I cannot ignore the hammer that chips away the small pieces of my heart.

I keep wondering: Is there something more I could have done? Some measure I could have implemented, some words I could have said to prevent the devastation of my planet?

It haunts my dreams at night, these questions. They scream at me in the voices of my handmaidens. They ask me why they were killed while I was spared. They tell me that I am nothing.

I close my eyes against the thoughts, welcoming, for once, the high-pitched giggles that rip through the quiet atmosphere. They dispel the faces, the agonizing memories; the sharp, annoying noises, and, ironically, allow me to breathe.

The profane gargles of inanity emanate from my new ladies-in-waiting. After… _losing_ my other handmaidens, I was forced to accept more despite my vehement objections. After all, what was a queen without her servants?

I accepted them grudgingly, assuming that, at the very least, they would be as professional as my last, blending into the background, silently supporting me whenever I needed.

My new handmaidens? They don't.

They are young, fresh-faced, wide-eyed and ill disciplined. They spend their free time looking at magazines and swooning over handsome officers, not training and meditating as my previous handmaidens did. They chatter endlessly and address me in ways unbefitting my station when out of the public eye. At this, I wonder if the training in the Order of Sanctuary has become lax or if these were the only young ladies who made it through the conflict.

Sometimes, I look at them with envy. For them, the war is over; they are in the midst of rebuilding their lives and like the prospects that await them. For me, the war will never end. I will never stop seeing the faces of my friends, will never get the image of broken bodies out of my head, will never stop hearing the screams…

I hate them sometimes, _fervently_. In moments of weakness, I fantasize about killing them, of wiping the looks of happiness and innocence off of their faces. Having them near all the fucking time is like looking at an example of what I could have been, shows me all that I have lost _inside_; peace, joy, faith in the overall goodness of the universe. Their attitudes, their behaviors highlight the vast differences between us and it feels like a gaping maw of separation, a disjointing of limbs.

My handmaidens and I are truly in two different galaxies.

I am jaded, scarred, traumatized by my experiences. They are warriors, yes, but ones who have never truly seen war. In these times of faux peace it is easy to become complacent as it seems that the violence is so far away. It's easy to relax when you have not been bathed in the blood of a comrade.

Refusing to look at them, I keep my eyes trained out of the window, staring at the darkness. It's funny; although the stars shine brightly through space, the darkness is still utterly dominant. The light of the stars glow now, but they will eventually die and the void will take it once more. Light is so delicate, so fragile, such a flicking thing. Like healing… and hope…

I close my eyes, attempting to shake off the macabre thoughts.

The war is over now; I should move on, and I will. In three days, I will be a civilian and that's what I want.

I want to be free to fade into obscurity, to live a life of peace away from the liars, the backstabbers, the _bullshit_ of politics.

My parents want me to settle down, but I don't. I have no desire to find a mate. I am quite content being alone; I prefer it actually. It took my parents a while to accept this, but they did for my sake. They know that the invasion affected me deeply and that I'm doing everything I can just to have a life that is vaguely normal.

"Estimated time of arrival for Naboo: 15 minutes," the voice of the intercom sounded overhead. "Please prepare for docking."

Soundlessly, I rise, sweeping out of the room. My handmaidens drop their entertainment and hastily follow after me. I bite back a sigh as they struggle to get into formation.

I am ready to be home. I knew that I missed it, but seeing the swirling blue and green surface of Naboo soothes something in my heart.

Hopefully… _hopefully_, I will find something here that will help me to heal. I know that I am broken, that there is something wrong with me.

I shouldn't be like this, I know I shouldn't. But maybe, just maybe, the picturesque grassy plains, lush hills and verdant waterfalls of Naboo will alleviate this ache in my heart.

#*#*#*#*#

I should have known this was coming.

My posture is stiff as I nod at the servant who sets a dish in front of me.

The plate is piled with noodles surrounded by rich greens, topped with meat, and covered with a creamy white sauce. It looks _fabulous_. Of all the interests that have left me since the war, food is not one of them. I still adore it and try to eat as much as I can. I eat so much it's a wonder I'm not as big as a shaak.

I fold my hands neatly as I wait for my companion, queen-elect Jamillia, to be served.

She is a little taller than me, which is annoying as I have to look up at her, but she is graceful and well trained. Appearances are important in politics, and so far, she's not doing too badly. She has obviously found out about my love for good food and is using it to sweeten me up. Smart. Too bad it's not working… _much_.

I know why I'm here; she wants me to be senator. That she would even have the audacity to do ask really pisses me off. I did my service to my system, to my planet. No one on Naboo would blame me if I refused her. _No one_. And that's just what I'm going to do.

As soon as she lifts her fork to eat, I begin to as well. Because my rule will be over soon, it is polite to defer to her although I am the current queen.

Closing my eyes, I bite back a moan as the creamy, rich sauce hits my tongue. It tastes as wonderful as its appearance portends. This moment would be perfect if I was here alone without the _extra_.

I pause in my eating for a moment to study her. She is so young that I wonder when it became a good idea for Naboo to put children into places of power. I questioned it when I was younger and I question it now.

I suppose it should have become… _okay _with me by now. This is my home planet and I can't expect us to act as others do. But, gazing upon Jamillia, I'm reminded as to why I didn't like it in the first place. It's so… _stressful_. It is obvious that Jamillia has no idea what she's doing. She's eating minimally because she does not yet know how to eat in her formal regalia. Even through her heavy make-up I can see how tense she is. Her shoulders are stiff and unyielding, and her mouth is drawn into a thin line of concentration.

I remember how it felt as the day of my inauguration drew closer. I was_ so_ nervous. I mean, how could I, a fourteen-year old girl, possibly rule a whole planet? I was terrified, nervous, and sick as hell only moments before going to my people.

But I made it, I survived, and despite the devastation that Naboo endured, I saw my people through an invasion.

In truth, she has the easy part, so what the hell does she have to be nervous about? All she has to do to continue the work I began. Still, I can remember how it felt, so I will… _attempt_ to curb my tongue.

Though I had been in politics for most of my life before becoming queen, I don't think I could have handled someone like myself upon being newly elected. It hadn't taken long for me to realize that the politics in the youth legislature on Naboo weren't even close to the level of those in the senate. I learned, though. Quite rapidly, in fact. It was either learn or be devoured by the gundarks that are the politicians of Galactic Senate.

Being in politics is like being in the jungle of Mykr; only the strong survive and just when you think you have allies, those same people turn around and kill you dead. There is, supposedly, no such thing as innocence in politics, but _I_ was, and several people showed me great kindness until I learned the rules of the game. So in the interest of paying it forward, I will show her mercy… at least for now.

It's the least I can do.

My eyes rise to meet hers as Jamillia delicately clears her throat. She places her dining-ware carefully on the table and then looks me straight in my eyes.

"I suspect you know why you're here," she begins without preamble, her voice strong and clear. "I… no, _we_, Naboo, need a senator. I want you to be that senator."

I remain silent, holding her gaze.

Frowning slightly at my stoniness, she raises a hand, indicating that the servants should leave.

As soon as the last one exits, she rises from her seat. My eyebrows lift as she settles into the seat next to me. She then reaches up and gently lifts the headpiece off of her head before laying it carefully on the table.

She turns to me, her mahogany gaze intense. "Queen Amidala, I will not for one moment sit here and tell you that I understand what you went through in the war. I won't try to guilt you into becoming senator because I suspect I would be unable. Not only that, but according to your reputation, queen-elect or not, you would rip me to shreds. Of that I have no doubt." She smiles faintly at me before continuing.

"But what I'm asking you to do is not about me and it's not about you. It's about this planet and the people that reside here. If there were anyone else, I would pick him or her simply because I know that what I'm asking is a lot. But there _is_ no else. There is no one more qualified than you."

Silence falls as I contemplate her words. I have to say, she's not what I expected. It's hard to impress me and though I'm not quite there yet, I'm close if only because she hides her fear of me.

"I am not the only person on Naboo that is qualified," I intone, my voice monotonous as befitting the queen. "There are many politicians here who have much experience in dealing with the Galactic Senate."

"This is true," Jamillia responds, nodding. "But they are not like you."

She pushes away from the chair and stands, turning her back to me. My eyes follow her as she steps to the large window.

"I had the profound privilege of seeing you in action at the senate not too long ago," Jamillia says quietly as she pushes the curtain out of the way to peer outside. "In that moment, I knew that you were the best possible thing for this system. I have to admit, trying to fill your shoes is a daunting task, one I'm not quite sure that I can do. _But_…"

She turned toward me and there was fire in her eyes. "If you're the senator of Naboo, I wouldn't have to fill your shoes. We would be… partners and the planet would respect us as such."

I smirk as she finally gets to the point. Making me senator will make her look good, will garner support for her, even from those who dislike her. Jamillia won by a hair's breadth, and there's still some speculation as to whether the votes should be recounted. So, instead of dealing with that mess, she's doing the next best thing: using me to gain an immediate surge of popularity on Naboo.

This is what I hate, what I'm trying to get away from. I have to admit, Jamillia did it with more tact than most politicians, but she's still trying to use me just as everyone else has.

I will _not_ be used, not anymore.

"Do you _really_ think," I begin coolly, my features falling into a sneer, "that I will be senator just to give you a popularity boost?"

Jamillia is silent for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I don't." She walks towards me and sits down again. "That's why I'm offering you a boon."

"A boon?" I ask tonelessly, eyebrows lifting.

"Yes," she says bravely, nodding. "I will give you one boon, whatever you wish when I become queen. Also, if you choose to represent us, I will give you free reign in the senate. I will ask for certain agendas to be pushed, of course, but for the most part, you will be your own woman and will suffer no negative political repercussions from me, no matter your actions."

I am silent for a moment, amazement coursing through me.

I take back my earlier assessment. Jamillia is not well trained at all; she's a _fool_. There's no way in hell I would make such an offer to _anyone_, especially to one such as I. I'm a loose cannon, have been for a while, and that's a pretty well known fact. What if I asked for something outrageous like for her firstborn?

"I know what you're thinking," she interrupts my thoughts softly, gazing at the floor. "You think I'm a fool, and it's true. I am. No one in their right mind would make such an offer." She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing, "However, I'm not trying to retain you for my own sake, but for the sake of this planet. I love Naboo, always have. It's why I wanted to become queen in the first place."

She turns to me, a sad smile on her face. "I know what happened in the war. I didn't fight, but I saw the devastation. Our senator at that time, the one who was supposed to intercede for us, failed. But you… _you_…" She gazes into my eyes and it seems that every part of her is focused on me.

"I believe that you will do whatever is in your power, legal or not, to make sure that something like that never happens to Naboo again. At the time of the invasion, you were queen, so you could not _make_ the senate do anything; you were bound to certain political…_restrictions_ as royalty. But as senator…" Jamillia's eyes gleamed. "You will have no such constraints as senator."

She falls silent, awaiting my answer, and I have to admit, I'm considering it. I probably won't get a better deal, not from anyone. But do I really want to do this?

"I will give you my response tonight," I announce suddenly, rising from my chair. Without another word, I head for the door. It's rude, absolutely rude, but it's a power play. I want her to understand something: _I'm_ in charge. This is_ my_ choice; I'm doing _her_ a favor. Jamillia says nothing as I exit but I know she has gotten my message by the sudden straightening of her spine and the carefully expressionless mask that descends over her features.

My handmaidens meet me outside and quickly fall into formation behind me without a word.

I don't spare them a glance as I continue to walk purposely down the large, luxurious halls.

I have much to think on tonight.

#*#*#*#*#

Gold… bright… comforting… warm… like the sun.

I close my eyes and hug my pillows tight. I'm in my bedroom at my parent's house and for the first time in a long time, I feel… okay.

The ache is still there, but it's dimmer, farther away.

It's dark now, but the memories of this room soothe me. They're memories of happiness, of joy, of love…

I'm going to do it. I knew before I swept out of the dining hall that I would do it. I waited until nearly midnight before sending my message to the queen elect. I want her to think that my acceptance was a near thing, to be wary of crossing me. But the truth is, it wasn't a near thing.

I cannot give up this chance, _will not_ give it up.

To have complete autonomy, to be free of the chains of morality and decency that usually guide me in the senate… The prospect is… _irresistible_.

I have always lived by this motto: treat people the way you want to be treated, but that's nothing more than bullshit in politics.

I will treat them the way they _deserve_. They deserve to be blackmailed, to be frightened, to have their wonderful little worlds toppled likes kids' play things.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I release a deep sigh, releasing my frustration, my sorrow, my worries for the future.

I know how vindictive and evil I sound. Yet while I did not go into politics to be corrupted by the ways of liars and thieves, to think I would not get dirty while playing in the mud is naïve and foolish.

These feelings pouring into me now were inevitable: I'm tired of being squeaky clean, tired of being taken advantage of, tired of my people suffering due to idealistic morals that only result in pain and loss.

I open my eyes and look toward the window. Getting out of bed, I walk to it and gaze at the stars above.

In three days, I will no longer be the queen of Naboo.

In three days, I will release my handmaidens, will pass on the ceremonial headdress, will pass down the secrets of the throne.

In three days, my rule will end.

But in three days, I will board a ship and head for Coruscant. In three days, I will enter 500 Republica, a place generously bequeathed to me by the queen-elect. In three days, I will replace Horace Vancil as the Galactic Senator from the 36th regional state space station.

In three days, it will begin.

End of Chapter 4: Please review!

**Chapter 5: Tying Up Loose Ends:** Vader's decisions.

A/N: Thank you to Wookeepedia for the Star Wars facts.

****Updated January 14, 2012****


	5. Tying Up Loose Ends

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas authorwithissues, Young at Heart 21, and the new addition to the team: T-man626; you guys are awesome.

Note 3: To Maddie Rose and TheGlassAuthor for helping me during my beta search; thank you.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 5: Tying Up Loose Ends**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**D**__arth __**V**__ader_

He is here.

I lounge on the couch in my chosen room in the Sith Temple of Thule. It is small unlike the many grandiose suites that reside in the temple, but I prefer it as it suits my purposes the best. It is close to the Archives and only a small distance from the dining hall. I never eat near the aged datapads; I don't need anyone to tell me that to do so would be sacrilege.

Sighing, I turn off the device before getting up to prepare for my visitor. I really hate to be interrupted when studying, but this person would have no such regard for my concerns.

Standing, I call my lightsaber to my hand without sparing it a glance and allow my arms to hang loosely at my sides, waiting…

I have been in this temple for two years, and am…_ part_ of it now. In the time I am not studying, I search its chambers, learning its secrets. It seems to reward my diligence, my thirst for knowledge, by treating me as its own.

So connected am I to this place that I know if a nexu comes close to the walls. Through the Force's unique connection to the fabric of the temple, I can glean weather patterns, the simplest life forms, even enemies such as the man who has so disrespectfully breached my sanctuary.

He will pay for this affront, of course.

I have waited for him, anticipated his arrival, and now he is here. My counterpart, my nemesis; Darth Tyranus, more commonly known as Count Dooku.

I can feel his apprehension, that he doesn't really know what to expect from me. More than that, though, he is angry, furious as he only recently learned of my existence, that Sidious had sought to replace him. It has shaken his faith in his master. He is truly a fool; he should have known that Sidious would attempt to replace him with someone younger, stronger, _smarter_.

This is a battle I have longed for, have lusted for. Defeating the apprentice after destroying the master? It would be yet another nail in Sidious' proverbial coffin. Doing so would completely solidify my superiority over him in my mind.

Eagerness threatens to rule me, yet, I caution myself not to be so confident that I become complacent. It is much easier said than done to fight against the arrogance that attempts to cling to me at every turn. But I will display prudence and exercise the cunning that my predecessors had. I will perfect the skills that they were never able to, and I will last longer than them because of it.

He is _here_.

My smile is feral as I feel Dooku's presence right outside my door. This is going to be _fun,_ a rare chance to test my newfound skills.

Silently the door slides open and there he is, his silhouette filling the doorway, a pathetic attempt at intimidation.

I have to stop myself from snorting with amusement at his antics. After living with and battling Sidious, a mere unwanted apprentice would not make my limbs tremble in fear.

He enters—sweeps inside, really—and stops, gazing emotionlessly upon me.

The atmosphere is tense and the amusement I feel quickly fades as my opponent stands before me. My breathing remains steady as his unique Force signature swirls around me like a billowing wind. Truly, Dooku is powerful, but no match for Sidious and, thus, no match for me.

Yet, I'm at a disadvantage. I do not know what I want to do with Dooku while it is obvious that his purpose for being here is to kill me. I have not thought far enough ahead to decide what to do with him—something I should have done—but no matter. The next few moments will decide his fate.

My eyes run unblinkingly over him, slowly taking in every part of him. He is taller than me and looks out of shape—which is pure deception on his part. I know from Sidious' journal that Dooku is incredibly quick and quite adept at using the Force for telekinesis. He did not live to be this age through luck; this is a skilled Force user in front of me. Yet there is something about him that amazes me: After all this time, all these years, the old fool doesn't yet know how to play the games of the Sith. He doesn't yet understand that the greatest battles are won without the use of a lightsaber. It's no wonder Sidious wanted to be rid of him.

"Count Dooku," I say finally, eyes bright, a mischievous smile on my lips. "I'm _so_ glad you finally came to see me! I was wondering how long it would take you to do so." My voice is high and innocent, that of a child.

He says nothing as he studies me closely. After a long moment, he speaks, his face twisting in disgust as though he has judged me and found me wanting. "It is obvious you were aware of my existence, yet, I was not aware of yours. Tell me, why did Sidious pick you?" There is scorn in his voice, disdain.

"What?" I smile innocently at him, feeling his rage build as I do so. "You didn't know? You must _really_ be upset that he chose me instead of you. But, surely you're not surprised?"

He says nothing, simply watches me.

"Did you really think," I continue, fixing my expression into one of confusion, "that Sidious would be satisfied with_ you_? You have to be _kidding_ me! You're so _old_! "

"Where is Sidious?" Dooku questioned, ignoring my words. "I no longer feel his Force presence." He looks around the room as though hoping to see his old Master hiding somewhere.

"Oh, he's dead!" I giggle loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls, striking in its annoying nature.

"It is as I suspected," the former Jedi murmured. "How is it that my master is dead?" he asks after a short silence, his eyes narrowing on me.

"Oh, I killed him, of course!" I grin at him happily, allowing my expression to portray innocence and naïveté.

"You lie," he spits angrily, his eyes beginning to glow a sickly yellowish color. "There is no way a child such as you could kill Darth Sidious!"

I shrug nonchalantly. "Whatever. You don't have to believe me." Shaking my head, I turn my back to him and move to the chair, laying down my lightsaber and picking up my 'pad to read.

His eyes are wide and a shocked silence follows as he watches me, unable to believe that I would turn my back on him, that I would allow myself to be vulnerable before him. It reeks of arrogance and is a slap in the face to him; it says I don't consider him a threat. This could not be more true.

I can tell he realizes the insult as his muscles suddenly tense in an attempt to reign in his temper.

"Enough," he speaks quietly, clearly at the end of his patience. "You are an affront to the Sith name, no more than a child." The fury is so thick, it is like an accent, garbling his words and making it difficult to understand him. "I shall end this farce now." Then, his lightsaber is glowing in the soft light he is advancing upon me.

"Ever since you walked in here, I have been trying to decide what to do with you." I allow a giggle to escape as my eyes continue to roam over the words of my 'pad.

"First, I thought of killing you outright, but then, I decided to wait and see. I mean, you could have provided some much needed entertainment. If that had been so, I would have spared you, allowed you to live." I giggle again and shake my head, my shoulder-length blonde hair curling around my shoulders at the movement.

"But now, after having met you, I think it would be better for the Universe as a whole if I were to simply _destroy_ you." My eyes snap up to meet his as the words echo through the room.

This is the part I love the best; dropping the façade, the mask, showing my enemy the truth of my nature. I love seeing the fear in their eyes, the knowledge that they're dead, that they've ventured into a gundark's den.

That is how Dooku looks now as my eyes, now fiercely amber and filled with hate, meets his. I revel in his surfacing dread, his flinch as he takes a step back, fear flashing crossing his face before he can adequately hide it.

"_Count_ Dooku," I sneer the name, my features twisting into a grotesque display of contempt. "I must say I expected _more_. It was so ridiculously easy to fool you with the 'innocent child' routine, _sickeningly_ so, that it's a wonder you're still alive after all of these years." I finger my 'pad, but make no move to engage him.

"So, the killer of Darth Sidious reveals himself at last," he says softly, falling into Form II: Makashi. "Come here, boy, fight me! You will not destroy me as easily as you did my master."

"You would like to think it was easy, wouldn't you?" I say with a smirk, putting my 'pad aside and leaning back in my seat. "To think otherwise would have you pissing in your pants at this very moment. I mean, if Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, could not defeat me then what chance would _you _have?" I begin to laugh, enjoying the power of the moment, the utter _deliciousness_ of it.

"It must really pain you," I continue, enjoying his impotent rage. "You were a Jedi Master for nearly seventy years! _Seventy years_…" I shake my head, the number so large it might as well have been a millennium. "But then, cunning old Palpatine comes along and so easily turns you away from the sect you swore an Oath to, only for you to find that he didn't want your old ass in the least!"

I laugh harder, the irony of it hilarious to me. "You betrayed an Order that would have revered you for someone who treated you as a slave and had no place for you in his plans!"

I lean toward him, my eyes glittering with malice. "How does it feel to know that you're useless to _everyone_? That you're old and worn out, that you're nothing more than a piece of bantha_ poodo_—"

My words are cut off as he screams in rage and charges, fury clear in every tense tendon of his face.

Before I even have time to raise my eyebrows in disgust for his lack of control, he is on me.

I crane my neck to look him in the eye as he swings his lightsaber. As my eyes connect with his in that moment, I can read all his pain, all his hurt, all his insecurities. It is satisfying to see it there; it is a source of pride that my words brought those emotions to the forefront.

Bellowing in rage, he brings his sword down in a sharp arc, going for the kill.

It stops a mere centimeter from my face. His eyes widen at the sudden cessation of his action. He tries to move, but is unable.

I rest my chin on my fist and watch as he is slowly moved away from me. Then, with a push from the Force, he is slammed into the wall, pinned there. I survey him for a moment before rising from the chair, placing the 'pad next to my lightsaber on the table.

"Silly me," I say, _tsk_ing and shaking my head. "Forgetting to introduce my associate is so very rude of me. Allow me to correct my _appalling _breach in manners." I nod my head toward the dark, shadowed far corner of the room.

There is a slight movement before he emerges from the shadows. His skin is blood red, being marred by the extensive black tattoos there. His head is crowned with horns and his eyes glow yellow in the soft lighting.

"This is Darth Maul." I frown as the Dathomirian Zabrak comes to stand beside me. "Doesn't ring a bell? Well, looks like Sidious kept_ quite_ a bit from you. Maul here is yet another one of Sidious' hidden apprentices. Looks like there was no chance for you, Dooku. Not one."

I go to Dooku's side and say in a low stage whisper, "Maul hates it when people attack me. _Hates it, _which is why he has you pinned to a wall like a stuck Forntarch. Now he's not going to leave me alone until I allow him to kill you."

My eyes do not blink as I stare at him hard. "It would have been better if you had never come here, Dooku. I would have allowed you to live had you not barged into my temple and disrespected me." My eyes are stormy as they bear into his.

"The one thing I cannot _abide_," I murmur, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "is _disrespect_."

I close my eyes, feeling Maul's Force presence swirling around the room, eager to attack, eager to destroy the enemy in front of us.

Dooku's eyes are wide with panic, screaming with such fear that it is almost pathetic to me. The man is terrified and I know if he was able, he would beg for his life, but Darth Maul has rendered him incapable of speech.

I move back to my seat, and once again pick up my holopad.

"Goodbye, Darth Tyrannus," I purr without sparing him another glance.

Maul immediately Force jumps to Dooku, and before I know it, red flashes in my peripheral vision and there is blood on the walls, in the rug on the floor. Maul is killing Dooku slowly, carving him with a knife, hitting at just the right spots to produce the most pain in the most elongated way.

I tenderly finger the 'pad as I hear Dooku scream. Maul must have released his voice to hear the sweet music of the old man's agony. That was a good move; I'll have to reward him later.

I smirk as another flash of blood flies through the air. I reach to my cheek and absently brush away the crimson there. As I settle into reading, the lyrical sound of Dooku's death throes soothe me.

It's moments like this that make me applaud my decision to keep Maul. He is, after all, so _very_ useful. It makes me wonder why I ever considered rejecting him in the first place and brings to mind the day that I saw him, the day I bound his fate to mine…

#*#*#*#*#

Deciding to leave the temple was not hard despite it being the first time I had ventured away from Thule since arriving a year ago.

It was more than a pure whim that drove me from the temple. Delving into the knowledge of the Sith was not only suffocating, but a lesson in cold-hard endurance. It was so easy to get lost in the manuscripts and the madness that lie within the Archives. There was so much Dark knowledge that I often felt the need to simply leave the temple, to take a breath of fresh air outside.

I do not want to be the Dark Side personified. I saw what that did to a person, what it had done to Sidious. The Dark Side was my chosen way to interact with the Force, but in order to prevent it from having total control, I could not allow it to take hold of every part of me.

Choosing to give myself a break was a painless decision and I set about doing something that had been on my mind to do for some time: Search all the residencies of Darth Sidious.

It was a difficult effort, _very_ difficult.

Finding his hideouts took _weeks_. To say the old man was paranoid is much too kind.

Everything was a code, a kriffing puzzle. Everything was powered through the Dark Side and required so much energy that it was as though two people were needed to enter his residencies.

I had reached his third hideout when I smelled the worst thing I had ever smelled in my life. What was worse, I could actually _taste_ it on my tongue.

Nose wrinkling in disgust, I went inside and discovered a red blob huddled in the corner. All around it were carcasses of dead animals. The cage itself was littered with piles of wood as though someone had tried to make a fire.

Upon closer inspection I found that the red blob was actually a sentient being. It was dying.

It never crossed my mind to leave him there. Later, this action would make me wonder if, perhaps, there was a tiny, infinitesimal amount of decency within me.

The worst thing about moving him was the smell. I had to step over feces and urine to retrieve him and it took all my training not to retch.

Compared to the smell, transporting him to my ship was a piece of _rhyscate_. It only took a half an hour to have him hooked up to a device that would work on restoring the tissue that had deteriorated from his malnutrition.

Although there was more in the cave to explore, I decided that caring after my patient was more important. After stealing a med droid and programming it to work on him, I returned to Thule and set him up in a room close to mine.

He woke a week later.

I was in his room, checking his vitals when he opened his eyes and looked at me. My eyebrow rose, but I said nothing, continuing my routine.

"You saved me," he croaked. It was a rough sound, devoid of emotion.

"Yes," I confirmed with a shrug.

"Why?"

"Because I felt like it." It was the truth. I did not do it out of the kindness of my heart or because it was the 'right thing to do'. I did it because it was like killing Sidious all over again. That was all; it was important for this guy to understand that he meant nothing to me.

"What's your name?" I asked on impulse, deciding to give in to my curiosity.

"I have no name," he answered, his eyes growing colder, if that was possible. "Sidious called me _slave_."

I had frowned, but said nothing. That sounded exactly like the former Dark Lord of the _Poodoo_. By the _Force_, I wish I could kill him again. As much as I wish otherwise, slavery will probably always be a sore spot for me; it is a weakness I cannot seem to rid myself of.

He blinked slowly before asking, "What do you want from me?"

I studied him silently, pondering over the question. What _did_ I want from him? It did not take me long to figure out the answer:

"Nothing."

His eyes widened so slightly that if I had not been looking at him, I would not have seen it. "Nothing?"

"Nothing," I confirm. He fell silent and I could see the confusion on his face. I understood his feelings. By all rights, I should have taken him as my apprentice; that's what most Sith Lords would do. But I'm not most Sith Lords.

"You are recovering nicely," I said after a long silence. "You'll be able to get the hell out of here in a few days—after I wipe your memory, of course." I did not want him to know where I was, or how to get here. He was unconscious on the way, but one could never be too careful.

"I don't want to go. Allow me to stay here with you." My eyebrows shot up at his words.

"Sorry, but I don't do apprentices." I didn't. I would never understand a system in which it was okay to train someone to kill you. Sidious had the right idea. Become immortal and there's no need to worry about training an apprentice.

"I don't care what you want me to do; I'll do anything you want," he said, his voice rising in strength as his eyes bore into mine. "Allow me to stay by your side."

"Let me clear something up right now," I said cruelly, grabbing his shirt, twisting it, yanking his face closer to mine, my eyes flashing. "I did _not _rescue you out of a sense of justice. I am Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith! I rule _alone_. Do you understand?"

I pushed him back into the bed and turned to leave.

"I will never fight you," he speaks quietly from the bed. "I will never try to kill you. I will be yours to command as long as I live. And should you die, I will follow you into death. I don't care what your motivation was; I don't care what it wasn't. You saved me, have bought my life, so it now belongs to you. If you do not accept it, then kill me now."

I stop at the doorway, something in his voice making me pause. To have a loyal servant willing to do my bidding had its merits…

"How do I know you're not lying," I said, whirling around to face him once more. "Why _shouldn't_ I kill you right now?"

"You are a Force user," he had answered solemnly. "A practitioner of the Dark Arts. Look into my mind."

I stared for a moment before marching over to him. Grabbing his shoulder, I glared into his eyes before forcibly pushing my way in. I know my mental rape was hurting him, but I plowed forward, unconcerned with his pain.

I frowned as I gleaned his thoughts; he was sincere in his desire to be my servant. Pulling out of his mind, I allowed him to fall into his pillow in pained exhaustion. His eyes were closed and I knew that my rough entry had given him a massive migraine.

He said nothing, though; merely waited for my verdict.

I stared at him thoughtfully, mentally replaying everything I had seen in his mind.

It doesn't take me long to reach a decision, and when I do, I hold out my hand. Without any hesitation, he takes it.

"You will be here as long as I see fit," I told him quietly. "At any time I even _think_ you seek to betray me, your head will disconnect from your shoulders."

He nodded, his teeth clenching as the action no doubt sent spikes of pain through his cranium.

Rising from the bed, I turned and walked to the door. Before I exited, I looked over my shoulder and spoke to him.

"Welcome to Thule… _Darth Maul_."

I turned away, but not before seeing a sinister smile spread across his lips.

End of Chapter 5: **Please take a moment and leave a review. **

**Chapter 6: Karma-cide**: Padmé's first year as senator.

Attribution: Thank you to Wookeepedia for the Star Wars facts.

A/N: For the purpose of this fic, I'm changing Darth Maul's age. Just go with it.

A/N2: Happy Black History Month to everyone.


	6. Karmacide

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas authorwithissues, T-man626 and Young at Heart 21. You guys are great.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 6: Karma-cide**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**P**__admé __**A**__midala_

I wish it were cold out here today.

With unseeing eyes I lean languidly against the balcony of the veranda. My heels lay discarded a few feet away and I have long since pulled the pins from my hair, allowing it to fall to my shoulders. Comfort is what I'm looking for and, in this rare moment stolen away from prying eyes and gossiping mouths, I can afford it.

It's never cold on Coruscant. It's never cool, it's never hot; it's never _anything_ other than the perfect temperature. I want to feel the refreshing blast of natural winter air on my face, _need_ to feel it. I want to see my breath fan out in front of me… I want this fucking place to be real, to be genuine for _once_.

But it's not; the temperature is expertly controlled.

Controlled.

_Controlled…_

Pursing my lips and shaking my head slightly, I turn around and allow myself to slide down the thick marble of the balcony pillars until I sit on the floor with a light _thump_. I frown at my glass for a moment before taking a delicate sip.

Control; in the end, that's all _everyone_ wants. We want to bend others to our will, to be superior, to be the one pulling all the strings. We want to be a law unto ourselves, to be checked and monitored by no one. We all want complete and utter domination.

Even I am guilty of this; it is what I have based my whole career as a senator on: control.

And they hate me for it.

I am 23 years old, have been queen for eight years, and now senator for only one, and they despise me.

As I look back on my first year as senator, I know why they abhor me. I have beaten them at their own game and did what I promised I would do: Make them pay for their deceit, their arrogance, their complete lack of regard for other sentient beings…

When I first became senator, my purpose was clear: I was going to clean house. The queen had given me leave to do what I would, so, I _did._

It was like being an investigative reporter. I delved into the lives of my peers, rooting out every hidden thing, every dark secret, every concealed evil. It didn't take much digging to unearth a pile of worms. What I found disgusted and horrified me. Sadly, though, I cannot say I was surprised that my peers—the ones who smile in my face but seek to use me at _all times_—are little more than gangsters and delinquents in fancy costumes.

The first person I busted was the beautiful Senator Dina Flores. That was so satisfying that I nearly squealed when I discovered her dirty secret: The senator uses her mouth for something _other_ than simple debate. I actually had the misfortune of witnessing her _negotiations_ in action. It had been vocal… and disgusting to watch. To put it plainly, it looked as though she was giving her _opponent_ the blowjob of a lifetime. It was _not_ pleasant viewing.

They were so engaged in their activity that they didn't even notice when I snapped a few holos and took some video of their _meeting_. I went home, spent a large amount of time creating a blog to suit the tone and taste of my intentions, and then I posted the hell out of what I had taken.

It made the evening HoloNews and began the period of what is fondly known by all those who _don't _work with me as the Karma-cide, a play on the words karma and genocide. I'm actually quite fond of the term as it seems accurate that fate would come to destroy those who lay waste to the galaxy by removing anything and everything that would call them into account for their behavior.

The good senator was quickly recognized and immediately dismissed from office… as was her partner in crime.

When it was discovered that it was _my_ blog that exposed her, it caused an even bigger ripple through the galaxy. The people could not believe that I had done it, that I had uncovered such corruption. After all, it had been around for so long… Why _me_? Why _now_?

It was met with a mixture of reactions… Many thought I was great, but just as many believed I was doing it merely to remain popular.

When I went to the senate the day after the scandal broke loose, I expected censure and anger from my peers. I received nothing of the sort.

Apparently my exposing her was viewed as little more than a payback for her fucking my boyfriend in the 'fresher. In their eyes, my actions had reduced me to little more than an immature girl seeking to destroy a rival in a fit of temper.

Their assumptions did not anger me, did not ruffle my feathers. I said nothing to them, did not try to correct them in any way. The truth is that I was not at all done, as they would soon see. And it didn't take them long to get the message at all.

The next person I busted was Senator Bribbs Beolars of the Sullust system. I found that he was a Separatist sympathizer who had been passing on confidential information. He is now occupying a cell in a maximum-security prison.

After that, my colleagues grew confused, shifty-eyed, skittish; Senator Beolars had no obvious connection with me. Why would I go after him?

By the time I got to my fourth victim, my intentions had become clear: I was out for any and everyone who used their office for their own selfish, evil gain.

They panicked.

Watching the usually regal, snooty senators dodge me in the halls and hastily try to conceal their clandestine practices made me want to laugh, it was so pathetic.

Didn't they realize that their actions only helped me to pinpoint the bastards I would be exposing next? The amusement and pride that I felt from exposing my peers quickly faded as it soon became apparent that there was a lot more trash in the Senate than I thought. There was so much _evil_ being done that, for a moment, it felt like _everyone_ was dirty.

There was Senator Onaconda Farr of the Rodia and Savareen sectors; arrested in connection to a drug smuggling ring, now in jail.

Senator Lexi Dio of the Uyter and Lantillian sectors was a member of an intergalactic child smuggling ring. She was quickly arrested. She never made it to jail, though; someone killed the bitch on the way to the prison.

Senator Com Fordox of the Corellian sector was blown away for fucking the wrong man's wife. He was a notorious seducer of married women. Guess he won't be doing that anymore.

Senator Denaria Kee, Associate Planetary Representative of Murkhana and the Corporate Alliance, was yet _another_ separatist sympathizer…

The list goes on and on and on.

Thankfully, there were some senators who I found _did_ uphold the oaths that they took upon being elected into office: Senator Bail Organa of the Alderaan Sector, and I'm quite happy to say, Senator Mon Mothma of the Bormea sector were two who were quite clean.

But as more senators fell to exposure and my peer's hatred for me multiplied exponentially, the galaxy fell more in love with me.

I was doing what no one else had dared to do; I was exposing the filth that dirtied the galaxy.

I didn't bother to lie to myself about my intentions. I did it to make the galaxy better, but that wasn't my driving force; it was_ revenge_. The people I exposed first were the ones who had actively worked against giving Naboo aid when we _desperately_ needed it.

The next people I went after were those who were _obviously_ crooked. I ruined them just for fun.

But it wasn't as easy as simply following them down the senate hall and cracking a door open to find out what they were doing. Many times I found myself in the worse parts of different worlds. It wasn't only the filthiness of the areas that made them horrid, but it was the sense of hopeless that always accompanied poverty.

The senators' contacts were always in the most wretched of places. In one, bodies had been lined up against dark, dank buildings, pressing together for warmth. Children sat in filthy garments, staring listlessly into nothingness, at dreams that could never come true.

I watched so many times as these so called _representatives_ walked through theses broken masses to their destination, not even noticing the misery and despair around them. It made my heart burn in rage that beings so callous could hold such power. The experiences were so bad that when I left there, I felt contaminated and spent hours in the shower, hoping to scrub away the feeling of helplessness at my inability to help those people.

So dangerous were these ventures that, two months in, I decided that it would prudent to be able to defend myself with more than just a fancy blaster.

While the senate was in a period of recess, I visited the Order of Sanctuary— the same people that trained the handmaidens to the monarchs of Naboo.

They were surprised when I showed up at their doorstep, pleased that a queen, former or not, had taken an interest in the ancient sect.

I learned much there: weaponry, war strategies, a hand-to-hand-combat style created specially for my build and weight, and techniques for healing and wounding that I had no clue existed…

It was some of the hardest, most vigorous training I've ever been through and it made me a different person. I was made to fast, to learn to endure without. The physical conditioning as well as the one-on-one training sessions left me feeling as though I had been trampled by a herd of while banthas every day for the first few weeks of my stay and I often went to bed with painful, ugly black and blue bruises. But the most strenuous training was in my mind. The Order of Sanctuary believed to conquer one's mind was to conquer the enemy: learning to control myself was the hardest lesson to learn.

But I improved. I _made_ myself improve, refused to be defeated, and as I did, I began to feel powerful, secure in my own skin. Honestly, the feeling is indescribable.

There's nothing like being aware that you can take down a man three times your size. There's nothing like knowing that no matter where you go, you can _protect yourself_. It is by far one of the best decisions I made in my life.

By the time I returned to the senate, I had reached a new level of self-awareness. Not only was I queen and a senator, but now I was a warrior.

They did not see the change, of course, and as soon as I returned, they struck. The less daring senators went after my reputation in an effort to do to me what I was doing to them: expose secrets. The only thing is, I don't have any. When they discovered that, it infuriated and made them try something different; _creating_ secrets about me to expose.

It didn't work. By the time they had tried that tactic, I was being considered for sainthood in the eyes of the galaxy. I could do no wrong.

The more vicious ones went after my life. I could not help but be thankful that I had the foresight to train myself in combat; if not, I would have been dead within a month of returning.

But when assassination attempt after assassination attempt failed, they began to fear me in earnest.

How was it that I still lived when they unleashed everything they could against me?

How was it that I was able to find out information the way that I did?

How was it that this little 23-year old girl managed to bring the mighty galactic senate to its knees?

They were questions I did not answer. I found that I did not have to as the explanations everyone else came up with were far better and much more _amusing _than anything I could have said.

I'd heard so many rumors that I decided to keep them all in a journal: Some say I'm an angel sent by the Force to purify the government while others say I'm a lunatic looking for fame. My favorite one is that I'm a ninja who was sent by an ancient alien race to protect the galaxy. I'm dying to know who came up with that one. I mean, a ninja? An alien race? Seriously? And they call _me_ a lunatic?

They can say what they want; I don't care. It's not like I would tell go on the Holovid and tell them the truth anyway. What am I supposed to say? _Hi! I'm Senator Amidala and I've been hearing so many rumors about myself that I wanted to clear the air. This whole Karma-cide thing is about _me_, not _you_. I'm doing this because I hate the swine who call themselves politicians, in fact, I hate you fuckers too. So, go kill yourselves—all of you. Well… thank you!_

I nearly spit out my drink as I chortle at the thought. To see people's faces after saying something like that would be utterly hilarious.

I shake my head, taking another sip through a lingering smile. It would be _absolutely_ hilarious.

My merriment fades as the permeating silence of the veranda strikes me.

There was a consequence of my actions that I should have foreseen, but never quite thought about; since I had become the voluntary watchdog of the senate, it was hard to… make friends.

I'm not the kind of person who needs a lot of people wandering around me, digging into my very private life, but I'm not quite used to having no one to talk to. In the past, it was always my handmaidens. They were my constant companions, my best friends…

The guards that I have now are purely professional; they don't talk to me, they don't try to socialize, they are there to protect and they do their job. They're not options as friends.

My peers in the senate all fear me; they're not options either.

Even the large amount of new senators are wary of me, giving me a wide berth. I wouldn't want to be friends with them anyway. If I felt a divide between my handmaidens and myself, well… the new senators are like the old me, and being around them is like… is like being reminded of all that I lost.

I am alone.

It's why I'm out here on the balcony, drinking from my cup of victory, of pity… by myself.

I have cowed the senate, I have wreaked my revenge, all the while becoming a legend. I have cleaned the senate and now the politicians that are there are much too scared to step even a toe out of line.

So… _now what_?

I didn't expect this to cleanse my soul or any foolishness like that. I didn't expect the void in me to be filled. But I did expect _something_.

If only I had someone… _anyone_ to talk to.

If only the lights of Coruscant would blink a code that would tell me how to get out of this solitary state I have found myself in.

If only the perfectly controlled night could tell me what to do now.

Or perhaps the cold could have. But it can't, because it's not cold outside—it's warm.

End of Chapter 6: Please review.

**Chapter 7: Intruder:** Senator Amidala meets a man.


	7. Intruder

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas 9FingersAnnoyedWife and Young at Heart 21. You guys are great.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 7: Intruder**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**P**__admé __**A**__midala_

_Rumors_.

I cannot abide them. They are rife with half-truths and embellishments, with meanness and inaccuracy.

The rumors that abound about me are an indication of such a failing. Rumors thrive on hyperbole, on falsehoods and those who postulate them have no regard for the truth even when it is revealed.

Usually, rumors are pretty easy to avoid as I have few friends and the ones I do have, I spend little time with. Yet, despite this, I find myself unable to completely escape them.

Who are the rumors about this time? Surprisingly, not me. They are about a new senator, one who has shaken the normally traditional senate.

His name is Senator Anakin Skywalker.

I hate him already.

Everywhere I go there is a new tale about him, heralded by some cooing, fawning woman. He is a sex god, a hard-nosed cynic, a daring romantic, a charismatic rogue, an idealistic crusader… the next Supreme Chancellor.

This is blasphemy as Supreme Chancellor is a title that I covet for myself. To be the leader of the senate is to have true power, the very real ability to change the galaxy for the better. If I become Chancellor, then perhaps the old Padmé can yet live again; perhaps my hopes and dreams of a better, more peaceful galaxy are possible.

But now to have an upstart newcomer threaten my plans when I am so close to my dream? It's _unforgiveable_.

I will crush him, _must_ crush him. It is not something I am proud of, but is unavoidable. There is no way he is more qualified then me; no way he is as capable as running the governing body of the known galaxy as I am.

It makes me feel strange to know that I have become one of_ those_ politicians, one who will destroy careers for their own gains, very much like the senators that I expose. But destroying Skywalker is necessary; it's for the greater good.

Thankfully or not, I have not had the misfortune of meeting him. Not yet, anyway. But when I do, my arsenal of insults and sharply witted derisions are ready.

And that's only the beginning.

He won't know what hit him.

#*#*#*#*#

I find myself on the veranda. Again.

The venue this time is the opera. I can't say that I'm a big fan of it although it has been known to amuse me at times. Tonight is not one of those nights, so after a few excuses and a moderate walk, I am leaning on a balcony, staring over Coruscant.

I love my home world of Naboo, I really do. I love the waterfalls, the fields and the natural beauty of the planet; it is paradise. Yet despite everything, even the nauseatingly mundane temperature, Coruscant has found its way into my heart. It is the complete opposite of Naboo, yet I love it here because it is beautiful in its own way with its tall buildings and its bright lights. It is a technological wonder.

It's why I always hide on a balcony, why I always escape to a terrace; it allows me to look upon the people, the recipients of my hard work. Just watching the traffic lanes and the twinkling lights of the buildings hardens my resolve. I _will_ be Supreme Chancellor; there is no other option for me, because how many citizens live here and yet have no time to admire the beauty around them because they are struggling to survive, to avoid this war that is tearing the galaxy apart, to protect their children?

When I become Chancellor, I will _end_ this war. I _will_ bring peace. I will! The galaxy deserves nothing less—

The thought is halted as an echo of footsteps distract me. Frowning, I turn toward the noise. Moments later, a figure steps onto the terrace; it is a young man.

My eyebrows lift as he comes into the light.

He is handsome, _very_ handsome with golden hair and indigo eyes. But beautiful people are a dime a dozen in the senate, indeed, it's almost as though it is a quality one must have to be in public service. No one wants an unattractive person to represent them after all.

My face turns chilly as I tell the trespasser, without words, that he is unwelcome.

"I'm sorry, but this terrace is taken." My voice is not polite as I address him.

He smiles at me but I ignore it, merely continuing to stare at him. "I don't mean to intrude, but I was passing by and saw the view and I just had to stop. If I could…?" he looks at me expectantly, his question clear.

I stare at him for a long moment, mentally hoping that he'll graciously bow out and find another terrace like most people. To my surprise, he merely holds my gaze, passively waiting for my answer.

"Very well," I reply less than kindly. "You may stay."

"Thank you," he says, amusement coloring his voice.

I frown as he moves to stand a respectable distance away from me.

It's then that I catch a whiff of him; he smells of earth and man. It's nice.

Annoyed, I turn away from him, losing myself once more in my thoughts.

Although I have cleaned much of the senate, it's difficult to wipe any organization completely clean. But it's probably for the best that the remnants are there; they fear me, so at the very least, they won't vote against me. I've already neutralized the current Interim Chancellor, appointed after the mysterious disappearance of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, so that won't be an issue. As of now, I have enough votes to win the election if it was cast at this very moment, but I have to be sure. I need more than what is required just in case some of my current supporters back out at the last minute—

"Hey! Stop it!"

I frown as a childish voice rips through the air.

"Where is that coming from?" Without waiting for an answer from my unwelcome companion, I lean slightly over the edge of the terrace to see. The opera house, like most venues of the obscenely wealthy on Coruscant, resides on a high level platform allowing the rich to look down on the rest of the world.

The level below the opera house is a museum designed for the children of Coruscant's elite. It is from there that the noise came, almost directly below us.

Three older males, who are obviously older—around 16 standard years— and much bigger, are cornering a young male child who looks to be around the age of 12.

I watch in disgust as one of the older ones snatch something away from the distressed younger boy.

It only takes a moment to absorb the situation before fury takes hold. Is there no one just in this world? Why is it that even the _children_ display cruelty and violence?

Nose flaring, I turn to leave. I'll show those little _animals_ to mess with someone smaller than them—

But suddenly, I am stopped as I feel a hand on my arm. It was the intruder.

"Wait," he begins. "I don't think—"

"_Wait_?" I say softly, dangerously, cutting him off and turning on him in glacial fury as I snatch my arm away. "For what? For them to seriously injure him?" My voice could have turned lava to ice.

"No," he replies with raised eyebrows. "I _was_ going to say that I had a much better idea than going down there and confronting them directly. I have absolutely no intention of allowing anyone to be bullied while _I'm_ around."

I tilt my head at him incredulously. "And what exactly do you think you can do without going down there?" I ask crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm going to do _this_." Grinning wickedly he moves to one of the many plants on the balcony near the walls. It is big, heavy and I lift my eyebrows at his strength; he doesn't look like he could lift that much.

"What you fail to realize ma'am—"

"My name is Senator Amidala," I interject sharply, watching him closely for any signs of recognition, but he merely continues as though I had not interrupted at all.

"—Senator Amidala, is that in order to get rid of a bully, you have to stoop to their level. You'll never get rid of them until they realize what it feels like to be picked on." He methodically begins to remove the plants from the huge vase until nothing was left but muddy, fertilizer water.

I watch in disbelief as he balances the vase on the edge of the balcony.

"Wait!" I say, eyes widening, shooting him a disbelieving stare. "You're not really going to do this, are you?"

"Oh yes, milady," he says, indigo eyes gleaming. "I am."

With that, he tilts the water over. It was like time slowed down; I could only watch in amazement as the water flowed over from the vase, landing on its intended target; the three bullies below.

A horrified laugh bubbling in my throat I lean over the edge to see his handiwork. Quickly setting down the vase, my companion leans over as well.

The three bullies are looking up at us, their faces pictures of utter humiliation as they are now covered in shit water.

Suddenly I can't help it; a laugh bubbles up from my throat. A second passes before he joins me. It's probably wrong to be laughing at another's expense, but they deserved it. It's then that I realize that this is the very first time in a long time that I've laughed like that and it feels great; especially since I'm doing it with someone else. It disturbs me slightly. When had life become such that it was uncommon for me to laugh?

"What the hell?" The tallest bully exclaims, finally overcoming some of his shock. "Why did you _do _that?"

"Well," my companion calls down cheerfully. "You were _acting_ like little shits so we decided that you should _look_ like little shits too!"

They only stare at us aghast before turning and running away, shouting threats of what their parents will do to us in revenge.

The younger boy comes forward, turning to look at us. Even from our height I can see his adorable smile. "Thank you so much!" he calls up.

"No problem kid," my companion responds. "It was our pleasure."

The boy beams at us before scampering off.

Smiling, I turn to gaze at him, really looking at him for the first time. What he just did was unbelievable. I don't know one senator, not _one_, who would have done what he just did.

I am a proud woman; I admit that. But I have never been so proud that I could not admit when I was wrong.

"That wasn't too bad," I say as he turns to me. "You may not be complete bantha _poodoo_."

"Well… not today," he smirks at me, winking one very blue eye at me. "It actually depends on my mood."

"Duly noted," I say with mock gravity, surprised at his wit. "You can be shit when you want to be."

"Exactly," he says grinning at me.

I roll my eyes, turning from him so he couldn't see my smile; this guy is kind of funny.

"Thank you for what you did just now," I say quietly after a long moment.

"It was really no problem," he responds with an easy smile, his gaze remaining on the bright night-lights of Coruscant. "I was happy to do it."

"Why? Most senators wouldn't be," I reply shortly. "They probably wouldn't have even paid attention to it."

"Well, I know how it feels to be bullied," he says, a solemn smile stretching his features. "No one intervened for me when I was a boy. So now, when I see it, I step in; I don't want anyone to go through the same things I did."

Frowning, I study him with narrowed eyes, trying to discern if he was being genuine or not. It wouldn't surprise me if this were a fabrication; many have attempted to pull a stunt like this since I became the senate's watchdog; I don't take anyone's word at face value anymore.

Noticing my perusal, he smiles, showing perfect white teeth. Annoyed that I noticed the state of his teeth, I grit my own, continuing to stare at him.

"Well, it's only right that you feel that way if you were bullied yourself. Do you expect a medal for being a decent sentient being?"

"You're very defensive aren't you," he asks seriously, staring down at me as intently as I was looking at him.

"I've found that I have to be."

"Not everyone who meets you is out to get you or is seeking you for some ulterior motive," he says softly, shaking his head.

"You _do_ live among politicians, the rich and wealthy, right?" I ask sardonically.

"There are good people even amongst them," he asserts, rubbing his arm.

"That's not my experience," I retort.

"Maybe you need to get out more," he replies glibly, smiling down at me.

I close my mouth, only able to stare up at him in confusion. I have met many different people from many different places and no one has been able to, for lack of a better word, _handle_ what I throw at them. Yet this man is doing so _easily_.

"Who _are_ you," I ask suspiciously, suddenly on guard. Was he a politician, one of the noveau riche, a wealthy performer? I really, _really_ wanted to know because there was just something about him that was… _off_.

"So _this _is where you are!"

I frown and turn to the entrance of the veranda to the voice that interrupted me and shake my head in irritated distaste at what I see.

A small, elderly woman stands before us and she looks _ridiculous_. Her solid gray hair is piled precariously on her head and she has on enough makeup to fell a gundark. If that's not enough, it's loud, _colorful_ makeup.

"Matilda!" he says, a smile stretching his lips. "Did you come here looking for me?"

"Yes, of course I did! The opera is over and you_ are_ my date!" She glares at me before batting her eyes at him and slowly walking forward, purposely emphasizing the sway of her hips.

The effort to hold my tongue nearly makes me choke. Contrary to popular belief, I do not rip into everyone I meet on a whine; I was taught to respect my elders, and when not in the political arena, I do… even if they do look utterly _foolish_.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes to her. "I deviated off course." He went to her, tucking her arm under his own.

"That's okay," she simpers, clinging to him. "We're together now and that's all that matters!" She gives me an evil look through the heavy veil of cosmetics, obviously viewing me as competition.

I'm actually glad she did; it's then that I'm able to see the humor in the situation and it helps me to release my frustration. She's obviously trying to recapture her youth; who am I to stop her from doing so?

"I was just on my way back, I was merely having a chat with my new friend here, Senator Amidala," he explains.

Friend? In his dreams. But the sound of my name elicited the response I've become accustomed to; instant fear. I usually don't care for that reaction, but this time, it'll be worth it if it gets grandma to go away.

"You… you're Senator Amidala?" she squeaks.

"I am," I say politely, firmly, eyes not leaving hers. "I hope you enjoyed the opera." It's an obvious dismissal and she took it as such.

"I did," she responds, her eyes darting between him and me. "Darling, why don't I meet you at our box, yes?"

He looks at her in confusion before nodding. "Yes, of course."

The haste with which she makes her exit would have been amusing if not for the questioning look he shoots me.

In response to his look, I give an indelicate, unladylike shrug.

"I guess you're pretty important?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

"I guess so," I respond evenly, my gaze steady. I'm not trying to be mysterious; I simply don't parade my resume in front of everyone. If he wants to know who I am, he can damn well look me up.

Probably sensing that I was done speaking, he shakes his head and let out a small laugh as though amused.

"I can take a hint," he says, running his hand through his blonde locks. "I'll go. You might not reciprocate the sentiment, but it was very nice meeting you."

He moves toward me and before I can process what he's doing, he takes my hand in his and kisses it. The feel of his warm, moist lips only touches my skin for a moment, but it's enough.

I stare at him with wide eyes as he backs up slightly to gaze upon me again. "Goodbye, Senator Amidala," he says softly before leaving, his footsteps silent on the thick, lush carpet.

I stand there for a moment and stare at the place on my hand where he'd kissed me. It burned.

Frowning, I exit the veranda, wondering at the strange feeling in the pit of my belly. I had never felt it before, I didn't know what it was and I didn't like it. His kiss had probably made me sick…

I go home that night with Mon and Bail and although I engage them and smile at them, my mind is on _him_.

Who_ is_ he?

As soon as I get home, I sit at my desk and research him. After an hour of fruitless searching, I stop, leaning back in my chair, thinking.

This had never happened to me before; no matter who it was, I've always been able to find out at least some information about a person even without a name.

It confirmes my suspicions about this man.

There's something funny going on here and I will not rest until I find out what.

End of Chapter 7: I wrote and rewrote this chapter more times than I care to remember, sooo… tell me what you think.

**Chapter 8: Second meeting:** A coincidence.

A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed from the last chapter:

phantom-jedil, Starvingforupdates, Aira Skies, Lerithanei, Heart of Aiur, AJMontyBird, ebonyXivory777, Silent Jay, Whitetree-Nimloth, jokehead, angie, The-Death-Star-Is-A-Lie, Tixilein2, the157th, VenusStar2-com, narxxnes, tribune militum, Rookworm, Imperial warlord, Skatious, Glee Plane, ILDV, ragonen, MusicalHeartStrings, Master Esso Antos, badkidoh, Hunflaron, dragonball256, Pepper Jackson, Caleb, JourneyRocks13, Loteva, LordAedan, BANE19, PastaSentient, Anakin-Jason-Skywalker-Kenobi, Young at Heart21.

If I missed you or messed up your name, I apologize; charge it to my head not my heart because you are all important to me. Thank you again!

A/N2: Starvingforupdates: your review made me smile and made me determined to post tonight. Thank you.


	8. Second Meeting

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas LordAedan and Young at Heart21. You guys are great.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 8: Second Meeting**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**P**admé **A**midala_

"Fancy meeting you here."

Groaning inwardly, I turn around to face the voice, instantly recognizing to whom the distinctive lilt belongs.

"Fancy indeed," I say with raised eyebrows, turning back to my work of organizing goods.

It has been two weeks since our last meeting and of all the places possible, I never expected to see him here.

_Here_ is the weekly food drive for the poor of Coruscant, held every Thursday. It is housed in a small building—although much larger than it was before—and always filled to the brim with people desperately seeking enough food to last until next week's drive.

I do what I can to help, volunteering as often as I can, organizing the food so that as many people get as much as they can with the little that we have. But no matter what I do, it never seems to be enough.

It angers me; the rich frivolously spend hundreds and thousands of credits on trinkets and toys while the people below them beg for food. I can _see_ the shame in some of their faces, but what I see in others is worse; it's complete apathy, a absolute lack of care about what others think of them for begging food; their pride had been stripped from them long ago.

Looking at the haggard faces of the poor reminds me of all that I fight for. This is important to me, my personal way of giving back, of showing the citizens that I truly care about them and to see _him_ here…

It is _too much_ of a coincidence.

Undeterred at my standoffishness, he moves closer, crossing his arms over an incredibly broad chest as he leans against the peeling, beige wall.

"How are you?"

I glare at him. "Busy," I bite out, standing back for a moment to examine my workspace, squinting in the poor light of the room. The food goods are in stacks all around the area and thankfully, there is much more this week than last. I must make a point to speak with the unloading crew, though. There are several crushed boxes and we cannot afford that; every item donated is needed.

When I finally look in his direction again, he is gazing at me in exasperation. "Are you always this…" he pauses for a moment, waving his hand as he looks for a word.

"Cautious?" I suggest, moving to arrange the goods on my right.

"Hostile," he corrects, giving me a knowing look.

"Maybe I'm hostile because there's so many people to be hostile _to_, present company included," I say with acid sweetness.

"You know what? You must be stronger than you look."

I frown at those words. "And why is that?" I say, and then immediately regret it. I just walked into a trap and his next words confirm it.

"Because having a chip on your shoulder that big must most certainly require a lot of strength,"

Feeling my annoyance build, I put my work down to turn to him. "Did you come in here just to insult me, or was there some purpose to this unwelcome visit?"

"I don't know," he says with flourish, stretching tan limbs. "I was just thinking this morning that it'd been a whole _two weeks_ since I was verbally abused and then I saw you and thought 'what the hell'? I might as well be abused by the best of them."

"Very funny," I say sourly, turning away from him so he wouldn't see my twitching mouth. I don't appreciate the fact that he's funny; it would be much easier to ignore him if he was an _un-funny_ asshole.

"So, I looked you up," he continues casually, rubbing his muscled arm in an up and down motion that takes more willpower than it should to ignore.

"Oh?" I respond trying to sound disinterested, although to be honest, I am curious to know what he discovered, what he thought about it.

"Yes. Apparently, according to Matilda and the reports I read, you are a vicious woman, deemed the 'Ice Queen', who's only purpose in life is to ruin others," he says matter-of-factly.

"Anything else?" I reply coolly. Although unsurprising, his words sting. In the entire Galaxy, no one had actually taken the time to understand my motives, but why should they? It is so much more entertaining to speculate and perpetuate lies about me. It certainly keeps the media moguls in business.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Some very _vocal_ personalities are quite sure that all you need is a good fuck and your mood will improve exponentially."

Gritting my teeth, I cross my arms, knowing it's a defensive move, but uncaring in the least. If there is one area of weakness I possess, it's sex.

It's not that I don't want to have sex, it's just that I haven't met one man, not _one,_ that I would allow to touch me in so intimate a manner. My mother taught me that my body is a gift to be given to a very special man; I'm beginning to think this so-called 'special man' doesn't exist.

His words shouldn't hurt; it isn't the first time someone has speculated about my sex life or my lack thereof and it probably won't be the last. But that he had the gall to say it to my face… it took considerable balls.

"You seem to have enjoyed reading all about me," I respond evenly.

"It was certainly entertaining," he says with a smirk.

"Why are you here then?" I ask, looking at him pointedly.

He smiles and, not for the first time, I curse the beauty of it. Force, why does this man have to be so handsome? It's getting harder and harder to ignore.

"I prefer to form my own opinion about people," he replies, amusement permeating his voice. "I sure as Sith hell am not going to allow a bunch of gossiping reporters to do it for me. Still, I was actually a little surprised at the amount of information available."

"Really? You'll probably be even more surprised that there's no such information on you," I respond lightly.

"You researched me?" he asks and I can hear the laugh in his voice. It annoys me.

"I research everyone as you should have read. Though, interestingly enough, I found nothing on you, absolutely nothing," I watch his face closely as I continue. "The only people who have no record of any activities are criminals and that's because all of their information is carefully guarded or erased."

"A criminal…" he murmurs, rubbing his chin, a distant look entering his eyes. "I wish that were the case."

Eyebrows shooting up, I cast him a disbelieving look. "Which implies that you're not, which is, of course, exactly what you'd say. So, please, enlighten me; tell me why I can't find any information on you."

"It's because, up until three years ago, I was a slave. And let's just say my owners didn't find it necessary to keep records such as those about their property," he replies, voice flat.

I blinked slowly as I feel all the blood drain from my face.

He had been a _slave_?

For the first time since the invasion of Naboo, I feel something suspiciously like regret materialize in my throat.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," he replies evenly, a ghost of a smile drifting across his face. "It's not something that I broadcast. People who live in the Republic seem to forget that there are many systems that are not a part of its union. Slavery is alive and well in the Outer Rim and as bad as the poor have it here, it's a million times better than being someone else's possession."

Noticing my wide-eyed stare, he shakes his head. "Don't feel bad about it. It's hardly your fault."

I do nothing, only make a small noise under my breath before turning back to my work, my mind racing from what he'd say. Is this man serious? I've never heard an 'I'm a former slave' story before; it's certainly novel.

"How did you escape?" I ask suddenly, curious to know. It's extremely rare for a slave to escape his owners in the Outer Rim; they have the industry of enslaving sentient beings down to a science.

"He died," he says with a shrug, the very picture of nonchalance and if I hadn't been watching him closely, I would have missed the satisfaction that quickly flashed across his face. It made me frown. Why the hell would he feel that?

"I'm not going to pretend that his passing saddened me because it didn't," he continues. "Actually, I had a small, internal party when he died; he was a very cruel man and the whole galaxy is a better place now that he's gone. It wasn't until some time after he died that I found that I was to be sold again. At that point, I was determined to escape or die trying. By an incredible stroke of luck, my slavers mistakenly left the door to my compartment open while I was in transit to a new owner. I saw a chance in a million and took it; I ran."

"Lucky break," I say quietly, my disbelief in just _how_ amazing that had been echoing in my voice.

"Very lucky indeed," he responds, smiling, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "But you don't believe me," he observes, watching me work.

"Am I really that obvious?" I say with mock coyness. I will not believe him until I find proof of his claims.

"I have no reason to lie."

That makes me pause. Turning to him, my voice lowers to a whisper and my eyes are intent upon his as I speak. "_Everyone_ has a reason to lie, I just haven't found yours yet."

It is then that he smiles, showing teeth, the sight of it sending chills down my spine. It is a predatory grin, similar to one a gundark might display. And there is a look in his eyes… it's dark and… _sinister_.

"Some reasons are best left in the dark," he says softly, that same smile still on his lips, his blue eyes gleaming. "Bringing them to light could be… _dangerous_."

And in that moment my suspicions are confirmed: this man is hiding something. For a moment, just a moment, I had seen a glimpse behind the genial mask that he displayed to the world. It… bothered me, _excited_ me. It seems I have finally found a challenge.

"Who _are_ you?" I ask, turning all of my attention on him. He had managed to avoid the question last time, but he wouldn't this time.

He blinks and then, just like that, his mask is back in place. "A friend," he replies, fingering his top.

"But I don't think you are," I respond icily. "Especially since this _friend_ refuses to tell me his name."

"I could be, though" he says, slowly closing the distance between us. "You seem to be in need of friends."

"Perhaps," I allow, refusing to give him more than that. I will not permit him to control this conversation or me.

We stand across from each other in the small, poorly kept room, watching one another, neither of us willing to concede. It's been a long time since I've had such a standoff; it's a bit exhilarating.

"How about this," he says finally, folding his arms again. "Why don't you allow me to take you on a friendly outing?"

"_You _take _me_ on an outing? Whatever for?" I ask in genuine confusion. Of all the things I expected him to say, this wasn't it.

"You're suspicious of me, but you can't find out the information you want, so why don't you let me tell you what you want to know?" he explains, smirking at me, obviously enjoying catching me off guard.

"Nice try," I say, glaring at him, turning to leave. "But no dice."

"Scared?" he taunts, his smirk widening.

"What the hell of?"

"Of finally being out of your depth."

His words make me pause and all I can do is stare at him.

_Damn_.

_Him_.

Force _damn_ this bastard to hell.

He wants to challenge me? So be it. Let it _never_ be said that Padmé Amidala backed down from a challenge!

"Fine!" I cry. Uncaring that I only came to his chin, I stalk up to him, stepping over the goods in my path to poke him in his very firm chest. "You want to take me out? Very well, but expect _hell_ the whole way!"

"I would expect nothing less," he says airily, that damnable laugh in his voice again. "I will pick you up from the opera house tomorrow night at seven."

I only glare at him, furious that I had allowed myself to be manipulated.

"_Well_," I say sharply after a moment. "You got what you wanted. Shouldn't you be _going_ now?"

"You're right, I _did_ get what I wanted, so, I'll go," he confirms with a sly grin that makes my stomach flip. "Besides, I must prepare for tomorrow, wouldn't want to fall short of your expectations after all."

Ignoring the funny feeling that is once again building in my stomach, I turn around to stalk past him, which is hard considering how crowded the room is. "You'd better not be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replies, that damnable laugh in his voice again.

With a huff of frustration I leave, making sure to shoot him a parting glare before doing so.

It isn't until I am out of the building and on my way home that I realize that he still hadn't told me his name.

#*#*#*#*#

It has been several hours since seeing _him_ and it has taken that long to get him out of my mind.

He is an enigma, a mystery to solve, but I cannot allow him to occupy all of my thoughts no matter how interesting he is. There are others things that require my attention, namely my senatorial responsibilities.

That is why I am now in my office at the Republic Executive Building, working.

Work.

Work.

Work.

Work.

It is the life of a senator.

Papers.

Speeches.

Proposals.

Bills.

Meetings.

They are all a part of a never-ending cycle of monotony and duty. Representatives are always required to do more work than they're paid for, and if they got into it for the money, they chose the wrong career for to be a representative is to serve, to make the Galaxy a better place. Yet the newest trend is most alarming; more politicians are getting into it for another reason altogether; _power_, for the ability to tweak the system to benefit them and no one else.

And what does the Galactic Senate have to show for this particular brand of public service? A war with several systems fighting to gain independence, that's what.

I don't agree with what the Separatists are doing, but I can't say I blame them. They despise the Republic for its corruption, wanting nothing more than to scrap the whole system and start from scratch.

It _is_ an idea, just an impractical one.

The whole of the Galactic Republic is not bad; the principles are sound, the statutes, morally praiseworthy; it's the flawed, or complete lack of _execution_ of these principles that makes the system a failure.

Any philosophy, whether political, social, or economic, is perfect in theory. It's the practicing that makes it unsound. Democracy, communism, oligarchies; they all look good on paper, but are impossible to implement to its fullest because sentient beings are imperfect, selfish creatures.

Democracy, though… I champion it because it's the lesser of all the evils, the most utopian in reality. Yet even that system has inherent and crippling flaws when applied to real life…

I am shaken from my thoughts when my assistant walks in.

"Senator Amidala," she says respectfully. "Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is here to see you."

Immediately, I feel a genuine smile stretch my face. Obi-Wan Kenobi is the most honorable man I know and the closest thing I have to a best friend. Because he is a Jedi, he is rarely on Coruscant, especially with the war, but he always makes a point to see me when he returns and I am always happy to welcome him.

"Obi-Wan," I exhale warmly as he enters, taking note of his newly acquired tan. "Looking good," I tease him, pleased to see crimson crawl up his neck.

"Padmé," he greets me in turn, hugging me tightly before releasing. "How are you this fine evening?"

"Busy," I say truthfully, looking at the stack of paperwork sprawled across my desk. "But that's every day. When did you get back? I didn't know you had returned. Why didn't you send word?"

"I didn't know I would be returning myself," he admits ruefully, rubbing his bearded chin. "It wasn't until this last mission that the Jedi decided to bring me back to Coruscant. I can't tell you why, but I am glad that they did."

I nod, understanding his inability to tell me more. With the volatility of the war, most of his missions are secret and known only to the Jedi. It's critical to his safety and the completion of his assignments. I can bear not being privy to every detail if it means that he will be safe.

We move to take a sit next to one another on the comfortable couch near the window and began to chat. As we do, I can't help but think that it's too bad that Obi-Wan's a Jedi. Of all of the men I know, he's the only one I would consider pursuing a relationship with. I'm not sure how well it would work, though. The type of passion that makes a couple lifelong partners, that I would want in a romantic relationship, is just not there between us. I'm almost glad of it; I've heard that sex can ruin relationships and I want Obi-Wan in my life, as my friend, until I die.

As we continue to talk, a thought strikes me. Obi-Wan is a Jedi and able to access the legendary Jedi Archives and other information that I am unable to. What if he…?

Noticing my distraction, Obi-Wan pauses, frowning in concern. "Is everything okay, Padmé," he asks gently. "You seem a bit preoccupied."

"I'm contemplating what to do about a little problem that I have," I admit with a sigh. "I met someone a few weeks ago, a man. It's hard to tell if he's a politician or not, but there's something about him, Obi-Wan…" my voice trails off as _he_ is once again pulled into the forefront of my thoughts. "I tried checking him out, but I found no information. He says it's because he was a slave up until three years ago, but I have no way to confirm that, so I was wondering…" I trail off giving him a pointed look.

"If I could find some information for you," he finishes, frowning. Obi-wan has never been vocal about his feelings about my karma-cide activities, but it is clear that he hates it and the subsequent enemies I have made as a result of it. It would be a huge favor for him to do this for me, one that would be going against his feelings.

"What is it about this person that makes you suspicious?" he asks finally, after a long silence.

"I honestly don't know," I confess. "I've never quite felt this way before, but I know he's hiding something. I_ know_ it."

Obi-Wan glances at me for a moment longer before sighing, obviously coming to a decision. "Before I agree to this, tell me: do you think this man is dangerous?"

I hesitate. Did I think that_ he_ was dangerous? Absolutely. Would I lie to my closest friend to get him to comply? No, not to Obi-Wan, but would I downplay the danger to get what I wanted? Unfortunately, yes.

"I don't know" I say finally, pushing down the shadows of guilt that hover at mind for misleading him. "I hope not."

After giving me a look that tells me exactly how insane he thinks I am, he sighs, running tan fingers through chocolate locks. "Very well, you never ask me for anything so I will do this for you. But I do want you to know it's under protest."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," I reply with a smile, squeezing his hand. "You're amazing."

Flushing, he clears his throat. "So, what's his name?"

Feeling heat rise up my own neck, I confess, "I don't actually know his name."

Eyebrows lifting, he simply responds, "Do you have a picture?"

Biting my lip, I shake my head. "Not quite, but I can get one tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?"

"I kind of have this… _thing_ with him tomorrow…" I allow my voice to trail off with a small shrug, hoping to downplay my actions.

"Wait," Obi-Wan says carefully, slowly turning on the couch so that his whole body is directly facing me. "Are you telling me that you have a 'thing'—whatever _that_ means—with a man you're suspicious about, a man who may or may not be dangerous?"

"Yes?" I say with an apologetic grin. Seeing his rising ire, I drop the antics and move closer to him. "Obi-Wan, I promise I'll be fine. I honestly don't think he'd hurt me."

Looking at me, Obi-Wan shakes his head. "What did I do to get stuck with such a reckless friend?"

Smiling, I shrug. "I don't know, but it must have been awful."

Rolling his eyes, he rises and I know it is time for him to leave.

A little while later, Obi-Wan is gone and I am thinking about my outing tomorrow with _him_.

Seeing Obi-Wan always puts me in good spirits, but getting him to agree to help me is the bonus that has made my day. Now, I feel as though I finally have a good chance of finding out some real information about _him_.

All it takes to accomplish any action is time and if I look hard enough, deep enough I will find out who this man is yet, and I must say, I cannot wait to see what is revealed.

End of Chapter 8: Please review. I really want them for this fic 'cause I'm flying blind. So really, let me know what you think.

**Chapter 9: Contemplation:** Vader thinks about Amidala.

**A/N**: Cookie to anyone who caught the "Merlin" and "Star Trek (2009)" vibe I had going on.


	9. Contemplation

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas and Young at Heart 21. You guys are great.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 9: Contemplation**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**D**__arth __**V**__ader_

The night finds me in the common area of my residence at 500 Republica with eyes closed and elbow propped up as I rest my chin on my fist. It is quiet here, still, a haven of sanity from the ever-evolving stupidity of the outside world. It is in this place that I am able to shed the insipid Anakin Skywalker and don that of a Sith Lord, my true visage.

It is in this place that I ponder how to destroy Padmé Amidala.

My road thus far has been rather straightforward, presenting the expected hindrances and nothing more. After killing Sidious and retaining the services of Darth Maul, I began the long and arduous task of infiltrating the Galactic Senate.

The process was quite tedious. A person cannot simply run for office on a whim; there are procedures to follow, bullshit one must go through to seek approval from the Galactic Senate. Maul quickly proved his usefulness to me by being my liaison to the political world. He found the people that needed to be bribed—or killed—to gain funding for my campaign and be introduced into the political arena. During this time, I created and developed the persona that was "Anakin Skywalker" while my servant navigated the legal recourse for positioning me into office.

Choosing a planet to represent was easy. Because of the location of the Outer Rim planets and their lack of significance to the galaxy of a whole, they were abandoned by the Republic and had no representation in the Senate. Their disinterest in the Outer Rim left the systems there in chaos and is one of the reasons why slavery has continued to flourish although it is quite illegal in the Republic. It is yet another glaring example of the Republic's _mercy_.

Around this time, the need to replace Sidious became great as his absence created a black hole of power, prompting the lowest of the galaxy's scum to seek Sidious' legacy in a mad scramble for power. I set about destroying what had begun to fill the void—a powerful crime syndicate— and replacing it with Maul.

Setting up Maul as my puppet Sith Lord proved time consuming. We had to kill many dissenting and _unwelcoming_ infidels before they began to take us seriously. One such group was the men who almost killed me the month after I disposed of Sidious. It had been a pleasure to teach them a lesson and I will not soon forget the terror in their eyes as Maul and I descended on them, ripping them to shreds with no explanation and no mercy. We did not use lightsabers on that night, rather, we used conventional weapons which made the experience all the more enjoyable. The carnage was _glorious_ and together, we painted the room red.

The whole night was a tremendous bonding experience and we ended it with a drink at a nearby pub, watching the ensuing chaos with terrific delight. It cemented my decision to keep Maul, and in turn, reinforced his loyalty to me.

After that particular night, most of the resistance faded and I easily established his base in the Outer Rim, making it a point to meet with all the lowlifes there. The brutality of our actions, the utter ruthlessness of our demands for complete loyalty from the reprobates in the area, soon made even the Jedi aware of us.

As fear of a new Dark Lord began to spread through the galaxy, I began to establish my persona as a native of Tatooine. It was easy to return to my old neighborhood and charm away the hatred there. Arriving in a shiny ship loaded with gifts tended to have that affect on people and by the time I left, they were firmly convinced that they had been mistaken about me all those years ago.

Gullible fools.

My mother was not in Mos Espa and I did not look for her. Finding her would… _restrict_ me. She is a weakness still, of that I am well aware. She would hold me back, inducing sentimental emotions that I do not care to feel.

Even the very _thought_ of her elicits a strange, unwelcome sense of warmth and these feelings do nothing more than harden my heart. I cannot afford to be vulnerable and distracted in this stage of my plan. It is best that she remains hidden from me.

As support for my campaign grew, I drew the attention of the Hutts. This did not surprise me as it is impossible to deal in the Outer Rim without interference from the disgusting creatures; they consider the whole of the Outer Rim their territory. Yet, the influence of my puppet had become such that an endorsement from him was enough to ensure approval even from them.

I, as Anakin Skywalker, was, of course, blissfully unaware that the new Dark Lord approved of me because of my 'malleability', my ability to be molded and easily pointed in the direction of the Sith's choosing. My complete obliviousness was part of my guise and something that the Dark Lord liked about me.

In all, it took nine months to establish Darth Maul as the new Dark Lord of the Sith, reveal myself as Anakin Skywalker and to reestablish the office of senator for the Arkanis sector. It took an additional two months to visit all the systems in that sector and establish relationships with the people. In the twelfth month, two years after defeating Sidious and a year after finding Maul, Anakin Skywalker ran for the Senatorial seat of the Arkanis sector against Sidrona Diath.

It was, as I predicted, a landslide victory.

#*#*#*#*#

My first days in the senate were easier than I expected. I quickly created a name for myself, gaining the trust and adoration of those around me. I was outrageous, smart, kind, and sexy; the perfect senator and they loved me for it.

For a time, my goal to become Supreme Chancellor seemed very simple, but that was until I met Senator Padmé Amidala.

After reading Sidious' notes, I expected an easily manipulated, naïve and gullible senator and thusly, was wholly unprepared for the reality of her.

Padmé Amidala is taciturn, stubborn and cutting in speech; in short, a fucking shrew.

I admit that, at first, I relished the thought of playing with her, especially after our initial meeting. She seemed different, a true deviation from the mind-numbing mediocrity of the politicians around me.

But that was before Maul brought me news of her recent activities, before I realized that it was _she _who was standing in the way of my plans.

Seizing control of the remnants of the Separatists after Palpatine's death was easy; they fear the sith, becoming senator of the Arkanis sector was relatively easy, if not lengthy, but becoming Supreme Chancellor? _Not_ easy and it's because of that _woman_.

While I wear a mask to all and threaten senators into obeying my will through Darth Maul and in secret, she controls them in public, superseding my wishes at every turn. I am sure that she has no _idea_ what she's done; creating a virtual lock on the Galactic Senate. In short, they are more afraid of _her_ then they are of _me_. I can threaten them, kill them, but she can _ruin_ them, humiliate them and force them to live through it.

It utterly _enrages_ me and I would like nothing more than to slay her.

_Right now_.

Painfully…

But, I cannot. She is much too powerful, too well-protected. Making her disappear would cause a frenzy, one which I cannot afford right now. I will approach this in an alternate way; gain her trust and control the one who controls everyone else.

It should not be too difficult as she is already enthralled by me, enchanted, despite her pitiful attempts to hide it.

I harbor no illusions as to what she's attracted to. Anakin Skywalker is witty, good looking and kind. I made him such with the sole purpose of appealing to the opposite sex. Women may think they are superior to males in controlling their lusts, but they are truly no better; they see with their eyes, want with their eyes and are much too blinded by what they see to discern what is underneath. If they were, they would know the truth of me and I would not find them naked and waiting in my bed.

It is good that such did not occur this night, for they would have found that woman's remains hanging in front of the entrance to the senate.

Yet there is something that concerns me about her. Sidious was no fool; if he said that Padmé Amidala was naive and gullible then she should have been. Something must have caused her to change, but what?

I need to know.

Rising, I grab my cloak and head to the door, unconcerned with the lateness of the hour.

Usually, I would send Maul on such a small mission, but this time, I will deal with it myself.

#*#*#*#*#

My search leads me to the Senatorial Archives.

It is late, but as a senator, I have 24 hour access. Nodding at the guard, I stride into the building, taking a very specific route toward the only terminal I use; the one that is invisible to the security holocams. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a small device and insert it into the terminal's auxiliary port. The device's purpose is three-fold; it automatically searches out sensitive and classified information, allows me to save the data and erases my activities, making it look as though I was never there.

Typing in the necessary phrase, I pull up the data. It only takes a moment to load it onto my device before I am once again taking my special route out of the Archives. This route allows me to avoid all surveillance equipment, making it easier to contradict any guard that places me here at the time of an… _accident_.

A short time later, I am in my residence once more and uploading the data to my private holotablet. As soon as it finished, I began to read:

**Invasion and Occupation of Naboo, 32 BBY**

_The Invasion of Naboo, also known as the Battle of Naboo, was a significant galactic conflict that occurred on the planet Naboo, in which the planet's capital city of Theed and surrounding regions, were invaded and occupied by the battle droid forces of the Trade Federation. _

_The crisis would end only when the Royal Naboo Security Forces and the Gungun Grand Army, led by Queen Amidala, fought and won the Second Battle of Theed._

_After the Trade Federation's surrender, its current leader, Viceroy Nute Gunray, was taken before the Galactic Senate on Coruscant to be tried with war crimes. Despite four trial in the Supreme Court, Gunray retained his position as Viceroy of the Trade Federation, only to later become a leader in the Separatist movement. _

I pause there, sitting back in my chair as I ponder what I'd read.

I am aware of the conflict on Naboo, everyone is, and if the Galactic Senate then was anything like they are now, they allowed Naboo to be invaded and lifted not a finger to aid them. It would explain Amidala's bitterness toward the Galactic Senate, her Karma-cide activities, and her desire to be Supreme Chancellor.

The proverbial back breaking "straw" would have been Nute Gunray. It is peculiar that even after illegally occupying Naboo, the Neimoidian was able to retain his position as Viceroy of the Trade Federation.

Reading a bit further down, I understood why. Apparently, Nute Gunray had a helper during his trials, a man called Count Dooku.

"Darth Tyranus," I say aloud. "I should have known."

So, that's how Sidious did it. I know that my former master had planed to invade Naboo so that the Separatist movement could be born, thus creating a conflict and a reason to manufacture a droid army; I simply had not known the details.

Tapping on the screen of the 'tablet, I pull up the crimes that Gunray and his cohorts were charged of:

1. Mistreatment of prisoners of war

2. Crimes against sentients including mass murder of civilian population

3. Rape

4. Looting

5. Crimes against peace

6. Crime of torture

My eyes zero in on the third charge; clicking it brought up the report.

_During the Naboo Invasion of 32 BBY , Queen Amidala listed rape as a war crime perpetuated by Nute Gunray and his accomplices. According to her account, all seven of her handmaidens were brutally violated and tortured to death. Their corpses continued to be used until a rescue team arrived and freed the Queen from her imprisonment. _

I sit the holotablet down and rest my hands on my fingers. That is what broke her, this is what killed the "sweet" Padmé and gave rise to Amidala.

I feel no sympathy for her, rather, an unwelcome touch of admiration. Poodoo happens in war, usually to the innocent who are unable to defend themselves. But to watch her handmaidens—who were probably her friends—be repeatedly raped before her very eyes and then survive the experience with mind intact is… _unusual_. Most people would have unloaded a blaster into a group of senators.

It's what I would have done.

It's truly a pity that I have to end her journey of enlightenment. Shaking my head, I rise. Of course, I will use this information come our outing tomorrow. Righteous rage toward immoral villains should have her eating out of my hand.

I look down at my chrono as it beings to beep; it's time to meet Darth Maul for an update on the status of our mission. Grabbing a dark cloak, I throw it over my shoulders with a lavish whirl and stride out toward the door.

I pause at what I see when I exit, nose flaring as ice creeps into my veins. There is a figure standing near my door wearing dark brown and beige robes; it's a Jedi.

My heart begins to beat faster as my shock gives way to fury. How did they know I was here? How could they have found out about me so quickly?

Taking an imperceptible breath to calm my heart rate and hide my considerable Force Signature, I move forward to meet him, cognizant of the lightsaber hidden under my cloak.

"Hello," I say pleasantly, smiling at him. "May I help you?"

"No," he responds shaking his head, returning a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm waiting for a friend."

"Really? If you give me a name, I may be able to help you," I insist gently. "I'm pretty familiar with this place."

He studies me for a moment and I deliberately look away as though uncomfortable with his perusal. It's a practiced move, one that I despise on normal days, but to do it for a Jedi _sickens_ me.

I almost wish that he would simply attack me and be done with it. I've been dying to kill a Jedi; it's on my things-to-do list.

"I'm sorry," he says after a moment, his gaze still on me. "But there's something about you…" His voice trails off before he shakes his head. "It's nothing," he says finally. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

With that, he turns to leave, but before he can disappear, I call out to him. "Do you have a name, Master Jedi?" I ask, not bothering to hide the fact that I know what he is; it would have looked suspicious to pretend otherwise.

He turns back to me, looking at me closely for a moment before answering quietly. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

I watch as he walks away with nose flared and lips pinched.

The Jedi felt my Force Signature, I know he did. He caught me off guard and I hid it too abruptly, too slowly.

If he knows that I have the Force, then he will be curious as to why I was not taken as a child. He will investigate. He will start digging and unlike Amidala, he has the resources on-hand to discover _sensitive_ information about me.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi has officially become problem number one.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," I murmur slowly, knowing that my face has contorted into an expression of sinister malice. "Your little forage has just signed your death warrant."

End of Chapter 9: Please review! They really do help me to update faster.

**10th Chapter: Outing**: Amidala goes on an outing with the her unwelcome acquaintance.


	10. Outing

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this story.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas; you guys are great.

Note 3: Sorry it took so long to update; I really needed a break after the end of C:R. Not only that, there was a bit of a thing going on... anyway, really sorry. This chapter is a little longer to make up for it. But please enjoy and review. The next update won't take nearly as long... hopefully.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 10: Outing**

_**P**__admé __**A**__midala_

It is almost time for me to leave when I answer the door, smiling in confused pleasure at who it is.

"Obi-Wan!" I exclaim, moving back so he can enter. "What are you doing here? Come to see me off on my outing?" I say the last part scornfully, conveying my disdain at the thought of the situation entirely.

I frown as he walks past me, his face troubled.

"Obi-Wan," I begin again, voice becoming serious. "What's wrong?"

He is silent for a moment before speaking. "I did some investigating on the man you told me about yesterday," he says as we take a seat in my common area, a frown on his face. "And I found him."

My eyebrows shoot up at his words and I immediately sit up straighter. "You did?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirms, brows furrowed. "His name is Anakin Skywalker and he's the new senator for the recently reinstated Arkanis Sector of the Outer Rim. He just became senator, Padmé, but lives _here_, in _this_ building." His gaze is intent on me even as my own eyes widen in disbelief.

"_He_ is Anakin Skywalker? _The_ Anakin Skywalker?" Before I can finish that confounding thought, the rest of his sentence hit me. "And he lives _here_? At 500 Republica?" I exclaim with a frown.

"Yes," he confirms, shaking his head. "He just moved here, Padmé, he should not have been able to get in. I even checked the waiting list at the administrative office and he wasn't on it."

I sit back on the couch, my frown deepening as I ponder this new piece of information.

Gaining a residence at 500 Republica is living in the most exclusive residence on Coruscant, probably the whole Republic. There are hundreds of prominent politicians and celebrities on the waiting list to merely _look_ at one of the incredibly rare openings in this building and that's only after donating a substantial amount of money. That I got in so easily is nearly unheard of and was possible only by virtue of it being given to me by the Queen of Naboo. If Anakin Skywalker got in without being on the waiting list, then that means that he has connections and powerful ones.

"You found him extremely quickly," I say abruptly. "How? Especially when you had no picture and no name."

"I felt a tremor in the Force as soon as you began to talk about him," Obi-Wan admits softly, a faraway look drifting into his eyes. "And when I began searching, it was like the Force led me straight to him."

My eyebrows rise. "What exactly does that mean?"

"I don't know," Obi-Wan speaks quietly. "But when I saw him it was like the Force hit me with a ton of durasteel. The Force wanted me to find him but I'm not sure why or for what. Until I know though…" he hesitates as he looks at me. "… I don't want you to go out with him tonight."

I shoot him an incredulous look."I gave my word, Obi-Wan. You know I can't _not_ go."

"Padmé, I want to be honest with you; I think this man is dangerous," he tries to reason with me and I can hear the pleading in his voice. "I really think you should call this outing off until I can get more information about him."

"It shouldn't be a problem, Obi-Wan. I _can_ defend myself," I reply in exasperation, rising from the seat and heading to my bedroom. "I'm not going to back down because someone may be dangerous. I'm around dangerous people all the time."

"I realize that," he insists stubbornly, rising to follow me. "But that does not preclude the possibility of real harm befalling you. And remember, Padmé, overconfidence comes before a person's downfall. You have no idea what he's capable of and you can't assume that your reputation or your training is enough to protect you from a direct attack or even abduction."

As he talks, the very real worry in his voice finally registers with me. Pausing, I turn to survey him, my eyes running over his strained face. I'd be telling an untruth if I said his apprehension did not make me pause. Obi-Wan does not get feelings like this all the time and if he feels that Skywalker is dangerous, then he is. But how can I make him understand that I simply _can't_ back out of this?

"Obi-Wan," I say, lightly touching his arm, trying to soothe him. "I hear you, okay? I really do. So how about we compromise? I'll keep my comlink on me at all times. If you call and I don't answer without calling you back within the following five minutes, activate the tracking beacon. If I answer and I'm in trouble, I'll say the phrase, 'I'm doing well, just tired.' Is that okay?"

I can tell from the look on his face that it isn't, but I can also see that he realizes that I've given him as much as I can.

Grudgingly he nods. "Fine," he concedes tersely.

Sighing, I impulsively move toward him and hug him tightly. That's one thing I love about Obi-Wan. He knows when to stop pushing and when to simply let me do what I'm going to do. And as I hug him, I try to tell him without words how much I appreciate him not trying to control me; I've had more than enough of that in my life.

He tenses in surprise at my action before relaxing into my embrace. I pull away and smile at him. "Obi-Wan, nothing's going to happen to me. But you have no idea how it feels to have a friend such as you looking after me. Thank you," I tell him softly, gratefully.

He replying smile is bright and the last of the tension in his visage disappears. "You're my friend, Padmé," he says to me with a slight squeeze before releasing me. "That's what friends do."

"You're right, of course." I flash him a smile before moving into my room. He pauses at the entrance to the door, close enough to hear me talk without actually setting foot in the room.

"Besides," I yell, moving into my very large closet. "The biggest thing you'll probably have to worry about is _me_ killing _him_," I joke. "By the Force, Anakin Skywalker is the most annoying individual I've encountered in my life! And that's in a _long_ list of horrifically annoying people!"

"Well, I hope that I'm overacting and that you have fun," he says the last part strangely and I just barely catch the hint of _something_ in his voice before it disappears. I glance at him a moment, wondering at what it is, before regulating it to the back of my mind to ponder over later.

"I wouldn't count on it," I reply sardonically, pulling on the heels that I retrieved. "I'm only going to prove a point and maybe wheedle some more information out of him. It should be a pretty uneventful night. So, no worries, I'll probably be back here before you know it."

#*#*#*#*#

He's _late_.

I can't believe it. After everything I said yesterday, the bastard _actually_ has the nerve to be late!

Gritting my teeth, I wrap my arms around myself, ignoring the stare of passing patrons. If he is not here in the next_ second_ then I am—

"Sorry I'm late!"

Turning, I see the perpetrator walking swiftly toward me, a grin on his face.

"Nice of you to finally make it," I say evenly, my voice not betraying my ire.

"You're angry," he observes, obviously sensing my mood anyway, as his eyes search my face. "Because I'm…" he pauses to check his chronometer. "One minute late?"

"You aren't really late," I say quietly, ignoring the amusement in his voice. "You're making a point."

"Oh?" he says, eyebrows rising. "And what point would that be?"

"That I can't tell you what to do. I told you not to be late, and you arrived exactly one minute late. No one does that unless they're trying to send a message. It's a power play, but I'm not going to participate in your game," I reply coldly. "Good_night_."

"I didn't know you gave up so easily, Amidala," he says softly, his voice carrying as I stomp away. "If that's all it takes to best you, then _I win_."

I immediately stop at his words, and just like that, my decision is cemented.

My mother always did say that my pride would be the death of me, but in this moment, I don't care if I go down in a glorious array of flames. I will _not_ allow this man the satisfaction of seeing me back down.

Squaring my shoulders, I twirl around to glare at him, nose flaring in anger. "Fine," I respond with acid sweetness. "I'll stay. Lead the way."

He smirks with such smugness it makes me want to smack him. Gritting my teeth, I follow in his steps, fuming. "So, where are we going?" I bite out. "It had better be _fantastic_."

Ignoring my tone, he turns to smile at me. "It's one of my favorite places ever. You're going to love it."

"We'll see," I reply coolly, as he finally stops at a speeder.

I began to circle it, inspecting it closely, impressed despite myself. "This is an XJ-6 airspeeder, gonzo colored with twin turbofan engines. Not bad."

His eyebrows shoot up and, for a moment, there's an unsettling _gleam_ in his eyes before it's gone and the expected surprise settles on his face.

"You know your speeders." It was not a question.

I smirk at his disbelief. "Is knowledge of transports and speeders only reserved for those with male genitalia?" I ask, getting in, not bothering to wait for him.

"I suppose not," he responds quietly, sliding in from his side.

Moments later, we are flying through the air. Three minutes in and we're gridlocked in traffic.

"Force, I hate the traffic here on Coruscant," I say in a huff. "It's said to be the worst in the galaxy."

"It's not so bad," he responds with a shrug. "All the stopping gives me time to think."

I glance at him derisively. "You _would_ need all this time to form a thought, wouldn't you?"

He doesn't respond, but raises an eyebrow in amusement at my words. It annoys me that he is taking my taunts so well; he's supposed to be insulted not entertained.

Suddenly, a large vehicle comes from behind us with a heavy swish of air, moving past our position in the stopped traffic in a steady crawl. Even from where I am, I can hear the laughter coming from the huge transport and I frown as I see it.

"That's a SoroSuub 2400 luxury model yacht. It's… bigger than I expected it to be." I say, eyeing the yacht, lips pursing at the sight of it.

"It's the newer model," he explains, looking at it as well. "They had to make it so in order to fit in all the extra accommodations."

The windows of the yacht are down and it's quite easy to see all the way through it. As expected, it is a den of excess. There are more people in the vehicle than what it can probably hold safely and they are all laughing and drinking as though they have not a care in the world. There are a plethora of what are probably expensive wines lining the shelves on the wall, wines that could probably each feed all the families at the shelter by itself. There also looks to be expensive furniture, expensive flooring, expensive _everything _in the vehicle.

Moments later, it has moved beside another lane, gliding beside the _real_ lanes of traffic as though it absolutely has the right to make its own and ignore the rules put in place for everyone's safety. It's so reminiscent of the attitudes of the rich that it makes me want to laugh in disgust.

"Do you think it's right for people to own things like this while others starve?" I ask him suddenly, my gaze remaining on the yacht.

I expect my question to catch him off guard, but am somehow unsurprised when it does not. "Yes and no," he answers immediately. He pauses, switching the transport to 'park' as it's obvious we're going to be sitting for a while and as I feel the transport settling into gear, he continues.

"Yours is both an easy and difficult question to answer. It doesn't seem right, does it, that people can drink really expensive wines and throw obscenely lavish parties like that while many families in the lower levels struggle. But everyone can't be rich. There will always be those who attain wealth and those who will not. That's the way of the galaxy. As such, I cannot begrudge a person their luxuries if their monies were won with hard work or attained with honor. However, I do take issue with such wealth when it is begotten by stepping on the backs of others," he is tapping his hands on the wheel as he speaks.

"If what you say about the galaxy is true and there are some who will be poor and some who will be rich, then what should be done for the poor?" I ask, studying him. "How do we help them?"

"Not by giving them money, if that's what you mean," he responds, turning to face me.

My eyebrows rise. "Is that so?"

He nods, a small smile befalling his lips. "Yes, it is and I think you know that. What good would it do to give the poor a substantial amount of money? Wealth is not just receiving money; it's the ability to maintain a certain type of lifestyle, a better lifestyle, which the poor would be unable to do on any sum of money given them. They would need a steady stream of a certain income for that."

"So, we just leave them in the state they're in?" I demand, glaring at him, a frown on my face. "We leave them poor and unhappy?"

"You're equating wealth with happiness or contentment which is a flawed precept," he replies, shaking his head and I can tell by his response that he has received such a rebuttal before. "A person does not need a yacht like that to be happy, only the ability to adequately provide for themselves and their families and to live their lives in peace. It is true that money is needed, but it won't fix the overarching problem. Only by changing the system itself will we successfully achieve long-lasting change that will better the lives of the poor."

I nibble on my lip, contemplating his words. "How would you achieve this change?"

"Well, that's the question isn't it and the whole reason we're at war with the Separatists," he answers, switching the speeder back to 'drive' as traffic begins to move again. "There are many possible ways that the system can be changed in theory, but few that are applicable in the real world."

_My thoughts exactly_, I think as he continues.

"There are many philosophies and theories that have been postulated through the centuries to provide a formula by which we treat one another. Some of the more famous philosophers are still relevant today. You are familiar with the theories of Ari'le, Conus, Ka't, Mis and Raals, are you not?"

I nod as I am well versed in the principles of these legendary thinkers of old and am, however unwillingly, more than a little impressed that he is as well. "Go on," I murmur.

"Singularly, the principles of all these philosophers hold very significant flaws or holes, but together, I believe they create a system that is most perfect for such an imperfect galaxy," he speeds up as we smoothly switch into a different lane of traffic.

"If there is anything the Republic needs, it is balance. Balance between rich and poor, deregulation and government regulation, and between all the different species that make up the Republic. At any time there is not balance, we have war because someone is getting what another person needs; one has a surplus while another has a deficit, one species has adequate representation while another does not.

"If politicians, taking balance into account, acted in the best interest of the greatest amount of people instead of themselves and their toadies, our galaxy would not be in such a state. Politicians can only truly do this by stripping themselves of all variables that may influence them to make decisions that are not in the best interest of those they represent. They also do this by acting in a way that they would wish the rest of the galaxy to act."

My gaze is intent on him as he talks, surprise and a grudging hint of admiration on my features. There is something to be said about an intelligent man. I meet so few of them that I never realized how terribly attractive it is.

"All of that sounds good, great even," I concede with a nod. "But is this not the problem now, getting politicians to act with honor? Thus far, all efforts have been unsuccessful. What makes_ your_ theory so different?"

"The fact that it only needs _one_ person to act suchly," he answers with a sly smile, obviously waiting for the question.

"One person?" My eyebrows shoot upward. "You would wish only one person to have these qualities?"

"Yes," he answers, obviously amused by my reaction. "It would be so much easier, would it not?"

"And I suppose you would give this one person all the power?"

"They're quite right about you, Amidala. You're a sharp one."

"That sounds suspiciously like a dictatorship," I retort, ignoring his taunt as my eyes narrow. "How is giving one person that much power going to help? It would be _disastrous_. History has shown how people with absolute power are inevitably and completely corrupted."

"Yes, because giving lesser dictators—whom you call senators, by the way—absolute power over their systems has worked so much better," he shoots back.

"They're _elected_!" I counter, leaning closer to him in my ire. "The people _voted_; they were able to pick who they wanted to represent them! Besides, in a democracy, _anyone_ can be a senator; in a dictatorship, only a few people decide who rule."

"Oh, come now, Amidala, you know that isn't _entirely_ true," he shakes his head, his voice cutting. "That anyone has a chance to become a glorified politician is a myth. Running for office takes millions of credits, monies which only the rich possess. A potentially fantastic and moral politician may live in the slums of Coruscant as we speak, but they won't ever see the inside of the senate chambers due to the circumstances of their birth. The_ rich_ place politicians in power. After all, did not your queen, and not the citizens of Naboo, elect you?" he counters sharply and I can see the gleam of victory in his eyes as he quickly glances at me before returning his gaze to traffic.

I stare at him, tight-mouthed as I sit back in my seat, my mind processing all that he has said.

Suddenly, I smile. This is man is…_ interesting_. It is quite thrilling to finally find someone who can keep up with me. I have yet to seriously counter his ideals, but the thought of the fireworks that will occur when we have it out… Force, it sends delicious shivers down my spine.

"Your analysis is correct but your conclusions are flawed. I must say, though, I'm impressed. Not many people would have been able to give me such a well-thought out theory," I allow.

He shakes his head, clearly exasperated with my stubbornness.

I fall silent as we continue to fly through the air, my curiosity at where we're going increasing as traffic beings to thin. Moments later, he turns into the rich district; it is not the technological wonder that 500 Republica is, but is quite prestigious in its own right, being a complex dedicated to providing the obscenely wealthy with a Nubian-like environment. The mansions are large and spaced far apart with great gardens and spaces of man-created lawns.

"I would expect nothing less from you, though," I continue after a moment, observing the landscape.

"Oh? And why is that?" he responds.

"You _are_ a politician, aren't you?" I reply, turning to look at him to gauge his reaction. "You're actually the new senator, Anakin Skywalker."

He is silent for a moment before speaking, "So, you're the reason the Jedi was at my door yesterday. You have friends in high places, senator."

Not bothering to deny his correct assumption, I shrug, brows creasing a little at his deductive skills.

"So, why didn't you tell me who you were when I asked?" I question, glaring at him.

"I didn't think you knew enough about me not to react negatively," he replies, returning the shrug.

I draw up, offended at his words. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?" I ask frigidly.

"Let's put it this way," he responds, rolling his eyes. "It was hard for me _not_ to hear that you were out to destroy me, what with all the rumors of my…" he pauses to look for a word as I glare daggers at him. "…Uh… _unsavory_ _activities_, so I wanted you to see that I wasn't complete bantha poodoo before drawing conclusions about me. Not only that, senators who begin to gain a little too much popularity seem to disappear overnight and since I have no intention of going anywhere, I thought it best that you get to know me before attempting to demolish my career."

I continue staring at him for a moment before shaking my head, amused despite myself. "You make me sound like a monster," I say evenly, crossing my arms.

"No, Amidala," he says softly, his eyes gleaming as he glances at me before returning eyes to traffic. "It is your actions that do that."

"Do you expect me to apologize?"

"I doubt you would," he says with a smile as we begin to slow down. "And, in truth, I would be quite disappointed if you did. I admire you; you saw that the Senate needed to be cleaned and you did it in your own way. To others it may have seemed as though you were only getting rid of the competition, but a little research would have told them that all of those senators were bad news. But, true to form, no one actually took the time to do that."

I sit back, surprised. "But you did."

"Of course," he says, nodding. "To be well informed is to be in control."

"And that's what you want isn't it?" I ask, tilting my head at him. "Control."

"Isn't that what we all want?" he counters, that gleam reappearing in his eyes again. "After all, you almost didn't come with me because you felt as though you lacked the control you felt you should have," he says, tilting his head at me at the speeder came to a stop in front of a particularly extravagant residence. "But we're here. Come on."

Then, I am exiting the speeder and following him down a well-hidden stone path. It only takes a moment before we reach our destination and my breath catches as my eyes behold the sight in front of me.

We are in what must be the garden of the mansion and it's… _incredible_.

The garden is massive and looks like what the forests of old must've looked like, boasting a plethora of different trees, plants and foliages. There are flowers that I've never seen before and plants that glow in the dark of the evening. But the crowning glory of the garden is the waterfall that lies on the farthest end of it and the fountain that sits in front of it, shooting out water in a grand display.

I gasp softly as lights suddenly come on, illuminating everything and giving the garden a ethereal glow. Seconds later, a thin sprig of water lightly sprays on the plants, making them gleam in the light.

It is magnificent and as much as I try not to be affected, I am.

I tense slightly as I feel him move next to me, but I don't move away as my eyes continue to take in the vision in front of me.

"You did this on purpose," I accuse quietly, my entire being focused on the garden.

"Of course I did," he confirms simply. He smiles at me and then with a nod indicating that I follow, leads me to one of the stone benches next to the waterfall. When I sit down, I am surprised to feel that it is plush.

My gaze shoots to him only to see a knowing smirk on his face. "You didn't really think the spoiled brats that live here would allow their most holy tushes to sit on something hard, do you? This is special Twi'lek stone that costs more than what a family of three in the lower levels could make in ten years."

I purse my lip at that before shaking my head and turning to face him."So this place belongs to a friend?" I inquire, lowering a finger to a flower that feels rubbery to the touch.

As I look at him for an answer, he merely smiles softly and I blink at the beauty of it, chiding myself for noticing how perfect and white his teeth are.

Inwardly, I scold myself; I know what he's trying to do and it's not going to work. He wants to lower my defenses, to get under my skin, to make me see him as a friend. But I won't be pulled in this easily; it takes more than an incredible garden to convince me that his intentions are pure.

"It's nice here," I say finally after a moment.

"It is," he agrees, his gaze on the waterfall. "But we're here because you want to know about me, right?"

I nod. "Tell me something. Something no one else knows."

He grins. "Sure, but only if you tell me something about yourself as well."

I shoot a sardonic glance at him. "Nice try, but this is your interrogation, not mine."

"No, but it just became both," he says softly, smirking at me. "Come now, you're all about fairness and equality and it's only fair to share as much about yourself as I do about myself."

Frowning, I bite my lip. With a sigh, I concede. "Fine," I mutter. "But you have to go first."

Grinning in triumph, he nods. "Okay, let's do something simple first; favorite color. Can you guess mine?"

"So, this is a guessing game, now?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, if you can't do it…" his voice trails off, a hint of innocent in his voice.

I frown. "Very well. Give me a moment." I study him, trying not to take note of how wonderful he looks.

"Black and red," I say finally.

His eyebrows rise. "Impressive. That's exactly right. How did you figure it out?"

I smile smugly at him, a coy smile touching my lips. "A girl never tells all of her secrets," I respond loftily.

He grins. "From my experience, they absolutely do. And I'm sorry to say this, but you have as well."

I arch an eyebrow at him. "What, exactly, does that mean?"

"I mean, your favorite colors are obvious."

"How so?"

"Well," he begins, leaning back against the stone behind us. "Despite your Karmacide activities and subsequent fame, you're an extremely private person. Not only that, you're a thinker. You plan everything down to the very last detail and I daresay you considered the fact that reporters would want to dig up the same dirt on you that you've been digging on everyone else. So, you created a facade, a persona, and everything that you are is tailored to that persona including your dress."

My eyes are wide as I listen to his easy explanation. I open my mouth to speak but closes it again as he continues.

"Despite your dress being very conservative, it is quite chic and colorful as befitting your age. Yet I noticed that I haven't, not even in any magazines or holopics taken of you at the senate, seen you in either purple or yellow. You do not wear them because they are part of your private life, the one that you don't want anyone to know about. Those are your favorite colors," he shoots me a smug smile, crossing his arms across his chest.

"How—?" I begin only to shut my mouth and stare at him. "That was… that was amazing," I admit, shaking my head in wonderment.

His eyebrows rise. "Did you just say that I was amazing?" he asks, a laugh in his voice.

"I didn't say you were amazing!" I counter, glaring at him. "I said that your deductive skills were amazing. There's a difference."

"I see," he murmurs, grinning and I turn away as my cheeks flush.

"Okay, wise guy," I say, annoyed. "If you think you're so smart, tell me; what do I do in my free time?"

His smile fades as he studies me. "I have an idea," he says lightly.

"Oh?" I respond, arching an eyebrow. "Then by all means, enlighten me."

"You're lonely," he states immediately. "And even though your peers see you as a bitch for what you've done, it's nothing compared to your own guilt on the matter. You know that what you've done will do far more good than harm, but you are still haunted by the fact that you willfully ruined the lives of others."

"So, because you don't have many friends and because you harbor such feelings in regards to your activities, you spend your free time volunteering and doing other altruistic things as atonement for destroying the lives of your peers. You also like to read and watch holovid because, not only are these things escapist, but they're something you can do alone and in the comfort of your home."

My eyes are narrowed on him, but my head is swimming. How is it possible that he's able to read me like this? I've never told any one about those feelings; never told anyone that I am nauseated by some of the things I've done, that I have nightmares about the people I've ruined and the families that have been affected by my actions. And I sure as hell haven't told anyone that I ignore all these things because they are reminiscent of the old Padmé, not the woman I have become.

I study him for a long moment, my mind racing. Who is this man? Not a regular politician, that's for sure. His words have only confirmed my suspicions about him; no one is this intuitive, no one can read people like this without having some sort of training.

I frown slightly as I remember Obi-Wan's words. '_It was like the Force wanted me to find him_…' the Jedi Master had said. Did the Force have something to do with this? Was that why he could sense my feelings, emotions that I myself don't want to admit exist? I burn to know, _need_ to know and suddenly, I don't care what I have to do to find out, I _will_ discover who this man really is.

"You're right," I respond finally. "Absolutely right. But you don't quite corner the market on deductive skills. Men tell tales as well."

"Really?" he raises a disbelieving eyebrow at me, folding his arms behind his head with a smirk. "Very well. Regale me with your intuitive analysis."

"You're hiding something," I speak quietly, deciding to lay all my cards on the table—a shock tactic. "I can feel it. And this bullshit 'friendly senator' act isn't going to stop me from finding out what."

For a moment, he pauses, staring at me in what finally seems to be genuine emotion: surprise. And that's when I get a glimpse into his true nature.

People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul and I tell you now that this is truth, because as I look into his eyes, something for which I have no name for appears. It's frightening, dangerous… _exciting_.

"What exactly do you think I'm hiding, senator?" he whispers, leaning forward so that he is close to me.

"I don't know, but I will," I reply with a smirk. "Everyone has something to hide."

"This is true," he agrees quietly, intense blue eyes scrutinizing me. "But I don't think you'll be too impressed with what you find. I'm a pretty boring guy."

"Now, I know that isn't true," I chortle, amused at his lies.

"You think not?" he answers, arching an eyebrow.

"Absolutely not," I affirm, shaking my head. "I actually think you might be the most exciting person I've met in a long time."

His eyebrows rise. "Should I be flattered?"

"Probably not, meeting new senators is about as exciting as watching paint dry. It doesn't take much to beat that."

He laughs and I cannot deny that the sound pleases me.

"I have to confess that I have come into contact with plenty of senators who have been less than entertaining or even friendly," he admits. "But I thank the Force that I haven't met anyone that boring."

"Give it a little time," I answer, snorting. "You'll meet them. They'll make you want to kill yourself just to get some relief."

I frown at the sudden, soft smile that graces his handsome features.

"You said 'give it a little time'," he says softly, in response to my confusion, tilting his head at me. "Does this mean you aren't going to ruin me?"

"That means you're safe for now," I reply lightly after a moment. "I won't stop digging, but your little tactic has borne some fruit; I don't think you're completely horrible. You got what you wanted, but then again, so did I."

"Oh?" he says curiously. "What did you get out of it?"

"A mission," I respond, smirking as I sit back against the rock.

"And what is this mission?"

I am silent for a long moment, staring at him. Then I lean forward much as he did earlier; I want him to see how serious I am.

"It's simple, really," I whisper, staring into azure eyes. "I'm going to tear down your walls, brick by brick. I'm going to discover the man who keeps peeking through this façade that is in front of me. You've been able to fool everyone else because you're handsome and you do outrageous things in the open so they won't look deeper. But I'm different. I've surprised you, caught you off guard on occasion and, as such, have seen what lurks beneath," I say with confidence.

"You think I'm handsome?" he asks jokingly, matching my whisper, but I can see the steel gleam in his eye. He is equal parts unhappy and intrigued. It makes my interest blaze even hotter.

"I think you're a very dangerous man," I continue as though he hadn't interrupted. "How much so, I do not know. But that'll be one of the things I find out."

For a moment, I think he is going to respond, that he's finally going to show his true face.

But he collects himself and sit back, dispelling the tension in the air. "Well," he says with a shrug and a smile. "Good luck with that. Let me know what you find out, okay?"

"Will do," I say, knowing that this nonchalance is a ploy to anger me, to throw me off, but it only proves to me that I hit a serious nerve. "Actually, you'll be the first to know."

"Well, while you're trying to find 'what lurks beneath'," he says, rolling his eyes. "I would like us to at least try to be friends."

"Won't let sleeping dogs lie, will you?" I ask, shaking my head.

"It's not in my nature."

I smirk, hearing the seriousness of his statement in his voice.

"Very well," I finally concede with a sigh. "I'll be friends with you."

"Calm down, Amidala," he says in exasperation. "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself with all that excitement."

I smirk at him and then turn to gaze upon the beauty of the garden, both of us falling into silence as we are each lost in our own thoughts.

"Do you want to know something interesting?" he asks after a moment.

I shrug. "Why not?"

"Very well," he pauses for a moment as though to collect his thoughts before speaking. "A very interesting thing, is the concept of light and dark. Light is regaled as right while darkness is regaled as wrong, yet each are equally treacherous."

I frown at the sudden turn in the conversation, at his words. "And how is this so?" I ask.

"Darkness conceals, but light blinds," he explains, his eyes touching mine, seeming to dig into my soul. "They both distort the vision, obscure the truth. People see darkness for what it is, but light? They are blind to its fault and therein lies its danger. What we think is right can blind us to the truth."

He pauses for a moment, his gaze thoughtful.

"What exactly," he continues after what seems like forever. "… will you discover on this mission of yours? And who will you be when it is all over? Are you ready to face the person that you might become? Are you prepared to look your beliefs in the face and abandon them? Can you make peace with the fact that your life, your will, your desires may all become undone?"

I am silent as I listen to his words, my eyes wide as brown touches indigo. They are a warning; he is _warning_ me to keep away.

"Your thoughts make sense and your concerns are sound," I murmur, standing up and walking to the middle of the garden, my back to him. Even from where I stand I can feel his dark triumph, but he has rejoiced too quickly for I am not done. "But…" I turn around to face him, my face the very mask of seriousness. "They reek of fear."

His eyebrows shoot up and the mask wavers. "What?" he asks quietly, dangerously. "What would I have to fear from _you_?" he says it with such incredulity, such distaste, that it makes me smile.

"Of finally being out of your depth," I answer with a smirk on my lips, taking great joy is returning his phrase from yesterday, watching him closely as he stands to meet my offense. "You see, your protests are so vocal, so terribly vehement that it means you don't _want_ me to dig. You're warning me because there is indeed something about you that you don't want the galaxy to know, not because you're concerned about my safety," I spit the last words, telling him how ridiculous I think the very idea is.

As I talk, I close the distance between us. "To tell you the truth," I continue, whispering now as I am standing chin to chest with him, craning my neck to look into his eyes. "I did not realize that the mere _mention_ of an investigation would scare you so. I should have though," I continue mockingly. "That_ is_ why you brought me on this little outing, is it not?"

By now, his eyes are blazing and a thrill of apprehension goes through me at the frightening look on his face. I blink once and murmur to him, "If a little digging is all it takes to best you, then…" I pause and lean close to him, conscious of the fact that he is mirroring my actions, his nostrils flared.

"… _I win_," I whisper, my mouth a hair's breadth from his ear.

His eyes widen, his mouth parts…

And the mask shatters.

In the coming months, when I look into the mirror and fail to recognize who is looking back at me, when the warnings made this day replay in my mind as words I should have heeded, it will be revealed that this is the moment that sealed my fate, that changed the course of my life forever.

Yes it is strange, because as I stand here now, I know I will forever remember feeling a very real fissure of fear run down my back as his blue eyes fade to amber, as apathy turns to attention, as boredom turns into lust.

I will remember it as the day Anakin Skywalker decided that I would be his.

End of chapter 10: Not completely happy with this chapter so please review and tell me what you think.

**Chapter 11: Chances:** Amidala receives advice.

****Updated July 9, 2012****


	11. Chances

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas chrishuyen and Young at Heart 21. You guys are great.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 11: Chances**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**P**__admé __**A**__midala_

Time seems to stand still as my brown eyes meet his amber ones and it feels as though my heart is going to pound out of my chest.

I can't remember the last time I felt so apprehensive, so invigorated… so _alive_.

I inhale sharply as he leans close, his hand slowly ascending to my cheek. His palm is warm and rough, sending electric tingles through my whole body.

"You look afraid, Amidala," he whispers and I can feel his breath against my lips.

"You don't scare me," I return, voice surprisingly steady as I glare at him.

He smiles; it's predatory and sends yet more shivers through me. "But I think I do…"

Frowning, I swat his hand away from my cheek before putting some distance between us.

"Are you not fully human?" I ask, feeling more in control now that his nearness is not overwhelming me. "Your eyes turned yellow."

"That's the least of your concerns right now, Senator," he counters silkily, eyes flickering between sea blue and honey yellow.

"Oh really?" I respond coolly, folding my arms.

"Yes," he confirms with a smirk, slowly closing the distance between us yet again, forcing me to crane my neck to up look at him. "I think you should be much more concerned about the consequences of your decision."

"Meaning, I should be worried about your _threats_," I retort, scoffing at him. "Not hardly, _Skywalker_."

I shoot him another glare, moving a few steps back to put us on equal ground again. This time he allows it, his smirk softening into a grin and his flickering eyes solidifying to blue.

"You play a dangerous game, Amidala," he says, shaking his head. "Now you've intrigued me."

"Oh, really?" I ask scornfully, eyebrows raising. "Well, excuse me if I'm not flattered. According to those _rumors _you were talking about earlier, there are many women who intrigue you."

"They were nothing," he says immediately with a dismissive wave of his hand, eyes intent on me. "Their purpose was to scratch an itch, but you…" he eyes narrows on me and I can see another flicker of yellow before it's gone. "You're different."

"Thank you," I say, my voice thick with sarcasm. "I can truly rest well tonight knowing that Senator Anakin Skywalker thinks I'm different from the legion of women panting after him."

He smiles and it is a dangerous, predatory thing. "But you _are_, Amidala, you are. You have fire, passion. You stand up to me although you sense I am dangerous. You are intelligent, bold…" his voice lowers, "…beautiful."

I grow still for a moment, staring at him, conscious that my body is reacting strangely to his words. Then, I take a breath and shake my head, refusing to be unsettled by his words. "Once again, not flattered."

"It's not my intentions to flatter you."

"Then what _are_ your intentions?"

He blinks slowly, the corner of his mouth turning up. "Telling you would hardly be any fun, although I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually."

Scowling, I glare at him. "Thank you, Mr. Cryptic," I say sarcastically. "But I'm not interested in figuring out your little riddle."

He merely smiles. "You will be."

Huffing, I turn away from him, tired of his games and conscious of the lateness of the hour. "Well, if you're done with your puzzles—"

"Hey! Who goes there?"

I turn to the source of the interruption with a frown, squinting as I make out three figures moving quickly toward us from the opposite end of the immense garden. They are wearing matching gray and black uniforms; they must be security guards for the grounds, but something's wrong. They look… angry, and they have _tasers_.

"Amidala," Skywalker begins, eyes on the guards as well. "We really should be leaving now."

"What do you mean?" I ask, frowning. "Just tell them that we have permission to be here and they should go away."

I glance at him in time to see his face; it is equal parts humorous and guilty. My eyes widen as a horrible thought crosses my mind.

"This place doesn't belong to one of your friends, does it?" I ask, groaning.

"I never said it did," he answers defensively, with a shrug. "But I _had_ hoped that the owners of this place wouldn't mind… or _notice_ us hanging out a bit."

"Are you trying to tell me that we're trespassing on someone's property?" I hiss, my eyes so sharp they should have cut him in twine.

"Pretty much," he responds cheerfully. "But seriously, we should go. Now."

Grabbing my arm, he pulls me and we began to run.

As we rush toward the transport, I am dazed, unable to reconcile how we had gone from bickering to being chased by security! As I look back, I discover that there are now _five_ guards chasing us!

"Skywalker," I huff frantically through clenched teeth. "As soon as we're away from here, I'm going to kill you!"

"Don't get excited," he shoots back. "We'll be fine. They never catch me."

I can only glance at him, aghast. How many times had he trespassed here?

But my inattention proves to be my downfall and suddenly, I am on the ground, having stepped incorrectly in my Force-damned heels.

I cry out as I go down, feeling my ankle twist painfully beneath me.

Panicking, I turn to see the guards gaining on me and as I lie there, I can _see_ the end of my career: The guards are going to capture me and realize who I am. Before I can get out of jail, every reporter on Coruscant is going to know that Padmé Amidala, senator extraordinaire, was jailed for trespassing. My enemies will get wind of this and destroy my career, though it would take little effort. Everything I've worked for, everything I've bled and sweated for will be over and it's all because I chose to come on this outing with this _imbecile_.

Obi-Wan had warned me, but I hadn't listened. Hindsight is a truly a bitch.

Then, quite suddenly, I am being lifted as though I weigh no more than a feather.

With widening eyes, I look down, aware that I am much farther away from the ground than I've ever been.

That is when I realize what has happened; Anakin Skywalker is _carrying_ me.

Before I know it, he has continued running down the stone path and I am clutching his neck tightly as he sprints impossibly fast.

As he moves, I can feel his muscles working under me, can feeling the barely restrained power in his arms as they hold me.

In that moment, I am acutely aware that I am horribly attracted to this man.

I have tried to deny it, have tried to ignore the tingles that run down my spine when he looks at me, when he brushes against me. Have tried to use logic to deny my attraction to him. But now, I can't, not with his body pressed so tightly against mine, not when I hear a dull roar in my ears as all my senses focus on him, not now that I feel a horrifyingly sharp blade of lust pierce me.

Then, the press of his body is gone; I am no longer in his arms, but being lowered into the transport.

Seconds later, he has gotten in besides me and we blast off, gone by the time the guards reach the end of the path, yelling their outrage at our escape.

We are silent as he races the speeder wildly past the mansions toward the main airways, only slowing down when we are merging into mainstream traffic, becoming just another transport in the endless stream of them.

I wince as I move my ankle, but barely care about the pain as my mind is on what had just happened.

He only drives for a short while before pulling over into a shopping area, parking in the back where only a few speeders sit.

Then, he is out and moving to my side of the speeder, opening the door and kneeling on the ground.

Without preamble, he gently grabs my leg, maneuvering it until my foot is on his thigh.

"I didn't give you permission to touch me," I say resignedly, without heat, as he removes my shoe and examines my ankle.

"I'm aware," he says with a smile, blonde head down, intent on inspecting my ankle.

"You're a lunatic," I continue as he gently touches several points on my ankle, trying to ignore how amazing his large, warm hands feel on my aching appendage. "You took me on an outing to a random rich person's garden? Who does that?"

"_I_ do that, for one," he responds, smirking as he gently rotates and massages my ankle in turns. "Why should the beauty of that garden be reserved for one person or one family alone? We probably got more pleasure from it in the short time we were there than the whole time the owner has been in that residence."

"So, that makes it right?" I retort, wincing as he hits a sore spot.

"Damn right," he answers firmly, a gleam in his eyes. "And you had fun, didn't you?

I only stare him, before shaking my head, an unwilling smile touching my lips at his audacity.

"I am under no obligation to answer that question," I answer loftily. "But I _do_ want you to know that I don't condone this fiasco, regardless of how exciting it was to be chased by angry guards."

"Duly noted," he responds with a wink. "Besides, you've probably never done anything so blatantly rebellious in your life, at least not for yourself. It's always been for the benefit of someone else. This time, you did it for _you_."

"Actually, I did it because of _you_," I respond with mock anger, my smile lingering as I shake my head. "I know this may be difficult for you to believe, but it's never quite crossed my mind to go on a trespassing trip. But now that I've seen what a wonderful time it is, I'll be sure to keep it in mind for future adventures."

He grins, his wonderfully rough hands still massaging my ankle. "Good, you absolutely should. Now, your ankle is not broken, only slightly sprained which is good. If you stay off of it for a couple hours while repeating these rotations with your foot in the air, you should be fine by tomorrow night."

"I'm not going to thank you," I say grudgingly after a moment. "You're the reason I got hurt in the first place."

He grins. "Sorry about that. And you don't need to thank me: Just come to my office at the Senate tomorrow at noon."

I immediately draw up, my nose flaring as my heart drops. And here it is; he's finally shown his true colors. He wants something from me, but don't they all? It really shouldn't surprise me, so why do I feel so _hurt_? It angers me. I don't even really know this man, so why is finding out that he's just like everyone else so painful?

My jaw tightens as I stare at him.

Obviously he's been quite clever in slipping past my defenses. Well, it's better that I find out about his duplicity now rather than later and just in time to end this little farce. Before I can open my mouth and give him a very _cutting_ piece of my mind, he continues speaking, rolling his eyes as he does.

"And before you get your panties in a twist, it's not to ask you to support any legislation or pork for my sector. It's simply to have lunch."

I frown, my mouth remaining tight and my gaze still suspicious as I stare at him. "If you want to have lunch, then why at the Senate? Why _at all_?"

"Well, we both work there so, it'll be easier to meet up," he responds seriously, titling his head up at me. "And because that's what friends do; they spend time together."

I am silent for a long moment as I continue to look at him.

Is he serious? He can't _possibly_ be serious about this friend thing, especially seeing as I've pretty much told him I'm going to conduct a full-blown investigation on him. And yet… what if he means what he's saying? What if he truly wants to be friends?

"I'll think about," I say finally, as he gently maneuvers my leg back into the transport. "But I'm not coming if there are any reporters around. You wouldn't be the first person who's tried to make it seem as though we're more than we are to the Galaxy."

"There won't be any reporters, Amidala," he answers solemnly. "It'll just be you and me."

I merely shoot him a sardonic look, choosing not to answer as he shuts my door and gets into the driver's seat.

We fall silent after that, each of us lost to our own thoughts.

It takes fifteen more minutes to reach 500 Republica and I don't comment on the fact that he knows where I live; most senators do.

Five minutes later we are in the splendid purple, gold and burgundy foyer of 500 Republica, facing one another.

Then, he takes my hand and kisses it, much like he did the very first time we met. And just like that time, a strange warmth spread through me, only this time it's stronger, more potent than before.

"I hope to see you tomorrow, milady," he says softly, eyes on me, "until then."

He retains possession of my hand for a moment longer and then is gone, walking toward his residence.

As I turn to go to my own, my thoughts are filled with flickering amber and indigo eyes and a proposition of friendship.

I have much to think on tonight.

#*#*#*#*#

I can sense that there's someone in my apartment as soon as I step inside the darkened foyer.

"Who's there?" I demand immediately, reaching for the blaster that I always keep on me. "Show yourself!"

Suddenly, a light turns on farther ahead in the middle of the den. There, on a couch with both hands clenched together under his chin, sits Obi-Wan.

His posture is stiff as a board and although his face is expressionless, I can tell that he's upset.

As soon as I see him, my mouth drops open and I put down my blaster, frantically digging in my purse for my forgotten comlink.

I groan when I examine it; it reads 11 missed beeps.

"Obi-Wan! I'm so sorry!" I say immediately, regret pouring from my voice. "I completely forgot all about this!"

He blinks slowly at me, mouth tight.

"Do you realize I was about to alert the Jedi that you were missing?" he asks quietly. "I thought you were seriously injured because you said you would answer your com if I called."

Oh, _Force_. I feel like _complete_ bantha poodoo.

Setting my things down, I move to sit next to him on the purple, plush couch, taking his hand into mine.

"Obi-Wan, I am, by far, the worst friend alive," I begin, my eyes begging for forgiveness. "I can make this up to you. Let me take you to dinner tomorrow."

His face is still, but he nods sharply. "Fine," he says tersely, standing up. "I'm glad you're okay."

I frown as he moves to leave, astounded at his behavior. He must have really been afraid for me for he's never treated me in such a manner. Obi-Wan is one of the only people in my life that I trust completely; a true friend. I can't let him leave like this.

"Wait," I say, grabbing his arm. "Obi-Wan. I truly am sorry."

I move to stand in front of him, touching each of his arms gently. "It wasn't my intention to worry you. I just got caught up is all. I know what I said and I know I didn't keep my promise, but I will try my very best never to do this again."

Finally, after a long moment, his face softens and he nods. "Padmé, please don't ever do that again. I thought… I thought something was truly wrong."

I shake my head, a gentle smile coming on my lips as I hug him, grateful to have such an amazing friend. "I'm sorry," I repeat, pulling away from him. "I'll be more conscious of my com from now on, okay?"

At his nod, I give him a brilliant smile.

"Now," I say slyly, pulling him toward the kitchen, "…how about some pie?"

#*#*#*#*#

It is near midnight when I finally settle into my bed.

After seeing Obi-Wan off and preparing myself for the night, I am exhausted, yet I cannot get Skywalker's request out of my head.

Skywalker is a danger to me, this became abundantly clear to me tonight. After what he had done, I should have lambasted him, should have completely and totally cut off all contact with him.

But I hadn't.

I'd followed him to an unknown destination, laughed at the fact that he could have ended my political career, even allowed him to _touch_ me. Now that I recall the crazy evening, I'm not quite sure what I had been _thinking_.

But there is _something_ about him that pulls me; something magnetic and elemental and _raw._ I am drawn to him.

But it needs to stop and now. I can't let this Skywalker ruin everything that I have worked for.

A beeping from my holopad interrupts my thoughts, signaling an incoming holo-call. I smile when I realize who it is; my mother. The next moment, concern washes through me. She never calls this late.

"Mom," I say a frown marring my face when her face appeared on the screen. "How are you? Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, honey," she answers, returning my frown. "I know I'm calling late but I've been trying to contact you for a week now. I've only ever been met with a message service or your secretary, so I decided to call when I _knew_ you would be home," she gives me a meaningful look and I flush as I feel heat creep up my neck.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I answer, ashamed. "I've been really busy but that's not an excuse."

Her face softens as she shakes her head. "I know you're busy, honey. But your father, your sister and I would like to know if you're alive every once in a while, just for our peace of mind."

I nod, unable to find anything wrong with the statement. Maybe, instead of committing crimes with Skywalker, I should have been checking up on my family.

"Padmé," my mother says, brows furrowing, obviously noticing my distraction, "what's wrong?"

"What makes you think anything is wrong?" I answer lightly, pulling my bedsheets over my legs.

She gives me the _look_. "I'm not one of your political peers, Padmé, I'm your mother; I know you and I know when something's wrong. You shouldn't keep it bottled up, honey. I'm here to talk if you want to."

I bite my lip, thinking for a moment before I sigh. "The Senate recently reinstated one of the Outer Rim sectors into the Republic, thus giving us a new senator. His name is Anakin Skywalker."

I see her immediately perk up at the mention of a man. I know what she's thinking so I immediately move to counter those thoughts. "And no, mother," I continue in exasperation. "I'm not in love with him."

"Then why tell me about him?" she asks curiously.

"Because he's infuriating, that's why!" I exclaim suddenly, unable to bottle it in anymore. "He's the most insufferable, arrogant _jerk_ I've ran into in a long while and that's saying something."

"Is he a bad man?" Mom inquires with a frown.

"No," I answer, biting my lip. "At least, not that I can see so far."

One of her eyebrows rise. "Well, do you disagree with his political views?"

"Yes and no," I answer grimly. "His analysis of the political system is correct but I don't agree with his methods for change."

"Do you dislike him, then?" she asks.

"Yes!" I say, nodding. Then I shake my head. "No! I don't know. He wants to be my _friend_," I say the part with distaste, my face scrunching at the word.

"Ah, I see," my mother says with a nod, a smile in her voice and on her face.

"What?" I respond, giving her a suspicious look. "What do you see?"

She looks at me thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. "Padmé, ever since Naboo was invaded your father and I have seen a change in you, one that has disturbed us to this day. But we never quite knew what to do about it, so we did nothing. All we could do was pray that you would heal, that you would put it all behind you."

"But I did, Mom," I say, titling my head at her. "I have."

"No, Padmé," she responds sadly, shaking her head. "You didn't and you haven't. We've watched you push the world away while locking yourself behind your walls. You've even pushed your family away, burying yourself in work and your Karma-cide activities." Mother shoots me a disapproving look as she talks about_ those_ activities, for like Obi-Wan, she doesn't approve of something that could get me killed.

"Mom," I begin to protest, "that's not true."

"It is, Padmé," she says firmly. "But now…" she smiles and her eyes shines as she does, "…your eyes are alight with fire and you are smiling! I see passion in you again and I think this Anakin Skywalker has done it."

I open my mouth and close it again, dismay running through me. "The only passion you see, Mom," I say, nosing flaring, "is my desire to hurt him!"

"Be that as it may," she responds, amused, "you are more alive than I've seen you in a long time. Whatever he did is making you feel alive and I think it scares you."

I blink at her, then turn my face away. _Scare_ wouldn't be the right word, perhaps _terrify_ would be more appropriate.

"What should I do, Mom?" I ask solemnly after a long moment, turning back to her. "I don't want to be hurt anymore. I _can't_ be hurt anymore."

"I know, my heart," my mom answers softly. "But in order to get the prize you must take risks. If this young senator wishes for you two to be friends, then give him a chance."

"But what if he's a liar?" I ask. "What if he's just trying to use me?"

"That's a possibility," she admits with a nod. "But that's why you take it slow, get to know him. When you spend a lot of time with a person, you begin to see their faults and those things which they were able to hide from you before will be revealed. It will be the same with this man for a person cannot hide the truth of themselves forever."

I say nothing for a moment, contemplating her words. Was I brave enough to give Skywalker a chance?

"Would it be okay if I gave him a hard time?" I ask, drawing my knees to my chest.

"Absolutely," Mom says cheerfully, winking at me. "You _should_ give him a hard time, he is, after all, a politician. But make sure you extend an olive branch of some kind and keep an open mind."

I rub my chin in thought before nodding. "Thank you, Mom. I think I needed this talk."

She smiles. "Anytime, my dear," she responds, her eyes filled with love, warming my heart. "But you look exhausted. Sleep, my love and I we will speak again soon."

After blowing her a kiss and sending messages for my father and sister, I close communication with my mom and snuggle into my bed.

And as I cut off my light and my eyes begin to close, one thought floats through my mind.

I'm going to that lunch tomorrow.

End of Chapter 11: Please review

**Chapter 12: Senate**: Amidala and Vader at the Senate


	12. Senate

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas chrishuyen and Young at Heart 21. You guys are great.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 12: Senate**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**D**__arth __**V**__ader_

"… We cannot allow the actions of the Separatists to go unchallenged. We must retaliate to show the citizens of the Republic that we are strong enough to meet this threat to its unity," Senator Ainlee Teem insisted, slamming his hand on the podium for emphasis. "Now is not the time to show weakness, we must show strength—"

"If we attack the Separatists we will only endanger the lives of the Republic's citizens," I interrupt smoothly, tapping my fingers lightly on the large, deep purple table. "We must strike only when it is absolutely necessary and only when we are sure that the targets are indeed Separatist cells. Instead of sending the droid army into every corner of the Republic and terrifying its citizens, we must work with the Jedi to hunt down the remaining leaders of the Confederacy. Without General Grievous and Asajj Ventress, the Separatist movement will crumble."

"The Jedi have been searching for Grievous and Ventress for months," Senator Teem shot back crossly, his three eyes glaring at me. "While you insist on withholding the clones, the Separatists are steadily waging a war of attrition on our forces in the Mid and Outer Rim systems. Even with our resources we can only sustain the war at this level for a short time before suffering severe economic consequences. We must end this conflict as quickly as possible and we can do that by allowing the Jedi to use the clones in the field to fight. The Separatists would soon fall under the might of such an army."

I sit up, back straightening as I turn a cold gaze upon the Gran. "Well, I apologize if I gauge the success of this war by the amount of lives saved as opposed to money spent. Nothing that the Republic spends is more important than doing what it promised to do in the first place; provide unity and stability to those within its borders. Yes, a clone army would quickly destroy the Separatists… but it would take along a good amount of citizens in its path as well. We are trying to prevent the spread of discord within the Republic's ranks. How do we succeed in doing that if we create yet another Separatists movement while trying to destroy the first?"

Silence meets my pronouncement and I smirk inwardly at the looks of surprise and approval being shot my way by the other occupants in the room.

I am in the Senate, attending a meeting with several key Outer and Mid Rim senators from the fourth quadrant of the Republic.

So serious is the issue of the war that the interim Supreme Chancellor has broken the Senate into small groups so that there may be a consensus among neighboring sectors as to how to proceed with the war.

This suits my purposes much better than being one of the thousands in the Grand Chambers hoping to get a word in edgewise and has made it infinitely easier to build my reputation as a wise man who seeks peace with as little force and violence as possible.

My performance in these meetings have gained me a growing list of allies, especially among those senators who have little pull or wish for this conflict to end as soon as possible. Most have heard of me before they see me and now expect to hear my opinions in session.

This time is no different and I relish the weight that my words carry.

Senator Teem's eye stalks twitch for a moment before he sits down, having finally realized that he has damaged his reputation and made himself look like an ass with no regard for the life of the Republic's citizens.

Dark triumph floods through me as he does, effectively transferring control of the meeting to me.

My careful campaign to win the hearts and mind of the Senate is working. My peers are aware of my dubious reputation when I enter, but by the time I leave, they are awed by my political prowess and look to me for guidance when I am in attendance.

Little by little, I am breaking the stronghold that Senator Amidala has on the Senate and soon, even she will be under my control.

"Gentlemen," Senator Dorr says smoothly, interrupting my thoughts as he throws me a cautious look. "It is time to call this meeting to a close until later on today. Please think about the person you think would best represent our sectors as the vote will take place when the session reconvenes this afternoon. This person will move forward to the meeting with the delegation that consists of all the senators from the fourth quadrant of the Republic—senators who will be chosen much as our spokesperson will be chosen by this group. After that, two persons will be chosen from each of the four quadrants. These senators will then meet with Interim Chancellor Valorum and representatives from the Jedi to make a final decision as to how to deal with the Separatists and clone army. This is a very important decision, so please, think carefully and choose wisely."

I nod gravely, the very picture of seriousness as I surreptitiously study the occupants of the room.

They will choose me to represent them, of course. There is no one else who has the status, power or seeming integrity to challenge me.

As the meeting finishes, I rise, nodding and smiling at the senators as I leave the conference room for my personal senatorial chambers.

It is laughable how gullible these fools truly are. They think they are politically savvy but all of them have the intelligence of a shaak, looking no further than their own special interests and completely missing the bigger picture. They are swept away by the concern that shines in my eyes, the conviction in my voice. They fail to see what is beneath and while this is beneficial to me now, it will be a problem when I begin to shape the galaxy to my liking. To dwell in the company of fools is to court disaster and I will not have my plans fail because of the idiocy of blind, _incompetent,_ partisans.

They will vote for me today, so they are not without their usefulness… at least, for now. I will use as long as they remain so, but then they will be eliminated. The clock is quickly counting down to that moment and when it arrives, I will separate their limbs from their bodies with my lightsaber and oh, how I relish that day.

Yet the day is not over for there are two more senatorial delegations meeting for the fourth quadrant, another whose sectors lies in the fourth quadrant: Padmé Amidala's.

I suppress a feral smile at the thought of her.

She will win the vote for her quadrant as well for no one would dare to vote for any other. It will be interesting indeed to see her in her natural habitat—the senatorial debates—at the following meeting as I have not yet had the opportunity to do so.

If she is anything in public like she is when she is ripping into me, it should be entertaining.

I nod to a senator as I walk easily down the halls of the Senate, moving steadily enough to convey focus, but not so slow as to encourage interruption and idle chit chat.

Amidala and I will be having lunch later on today and I look forward to it with an anticipation that I have not experienced in quite some time.

I immensely enjoy watching her glares, her complete and utter determination to match me word for word. She does not yet understand that she is in no way a match for me, but it will be my pleasure to enlighten her.

She will soon learn the consequences of her actions, very, very soon.

I bite back my annoyance as I round a corner, walking straight toward a group of gathered female politicians. Their eyes widen as I come into view and I can almost see their minds moving, calculating as they bestow appraising looking upon me.

Force, how I despise fan girls. They are no better than the Jedi in my eyes and should be dispatched just as quickly. Women such as these have haunted my steps since I showed my face in the Senate. Establishing a reputation as a skilled lover was necessary to win them over as women with power are freer with their sexuality and welcome men who can fuck their brains out. Yet now it seems more a double edged sword for they pursue me relentlessly and without boundaries.

At times, I enjoy the power that my face brings me, but lately, their doggedness has made me homicidal. It was not too long ago that I fulfilled an old fantasy when I found a senator's aide that I had worked with previously waiting naked in my bed. I had not been in the mood to play "Skywalker", so I summarily disposed of her, cleaving her head off of her shoulders with my lightsaber before rolling her body over the veranda of my suite.

Just the thought of watching her body topple over my terrace cheers me immensely and I wink sensually at the women as I stride confidently through their ranks, parting them like a diver into water.

They inhale sharply at my bold action and as I pause momentarily to throw another suggestive look over my shoulder, I see that some are eyeing my body while others are staring at me as a cat would a mouse.

Silly twits.

When the time is right, they will be eliminated as well.

Arriving at my office, I grab my black cloak and pull it around my shoulders, immediately relaxing as I feel its weight settle over my shoulders. It is the garb of a Sith and I immediately feel the facade of Anakin Skywalker fade when I don it.

I pull the hood over my face, knowing that it completely hides my identity from all eyes. I pause a moment to study the room, making sure everything is in place. I chose this office for several reasons; first, it's in the Senate unlike that of many other senators and secondly, it has a hidden exit that allows me to leave without detection.

It is through this exit that I leave, my lightsaber dangling soothingly along my side.

I have an hour and a half before my meeting with Amidala, plenty of time to take care of some business.

I have contemplated my path for a while and I realized long ago that I am no Darth Sidious; I am Darth Vader. I must make my own path, go my own way and I fully intend to do so.

It's time for the world… and the Jedi, to understand that as well.

#*#*#*#*#

I am composed as I stare from the shadows of a nondescript building, still as stone, waiting for my prey.

Patience is one of the few virtues I practice and I have found that waiting makes the end game so much sweeter.

Disgust twists my features as they finally appear; Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

They walk down the street laughing and talking, taking little notice of the passing looks of awe and respect being shot their way by nearby patrons. Their clear and apparent closeness makes me sneer. I will make that affection their downfall.

I have done much research on them and found that they as targets could not have been more perfect. Masters Jinn and Kenobi are some of the most decorated Knights in the Order, boasting awards, medals and accolades for their bravery, lightsaber skills and negotiating abilities. They are both paragons of virtue; the very picture of what Jedi should be.

It makes what I'm about to do so much sweeter.

I close my eyes a moment, allowing the Dark Side of the Force to fill me.

Opening my eyes, I blink slowly, knowing that they are shining a bright, clear gold even through the shroud of darkness around my face.

Immediately the Jedi pause, all cheer disappearing as they sense my dark presence, grabbing their lightsabers and bringing them to the ready, startling the patrons around them.

I increase the flow of the Dark Side for just a moment, long enough for them to…

My nose flares, as my eyes connect with Obi-Wan Kenobi's, noting the alarm on his face.

I turn my back to them, conscious of the many people between us. Pausing, I throw a pointed look over my shoulder before deliberately moving through the crowd.

As expected, they follow.

Soon, the people fade and the wide spaces narrow. Just as it becomes easy to see me, I disappear from their sight.

"Did you see where he went, Master?" I can hear Kenobi ask, eyes darting as they run down the passageway where they saw me. "He disappeared."

"No, but stay alert," Jinn replies tersely, lightsaber still held at the ready. "He could anywhere and he felt like—"

"—A Sith?" I interrupt, appearing behind them.

They immediately turn to face me, faces hard, blue and green lightsabers glowing.

"Who are you?" Jinn demands, eyes narrowing at me, trying to see through the veil of darkness around my face.

I pause for a moment, merely staring at them before using the Force to call my lightsaber to my hand, enabling it with a push of the button.

And then, before they know it, I am slashing my lightsaber at Kenobi's middrift, it being stopped by Jinn only a second before it slices clean through his old Padawan.

Kenobi's gasp of horror was gratifying, but I did not react, merely sweeping around smoothy to attack once again. This time, Kenobi blocks, ready for my attack.

I pull back, and they move forward together, their blows coming quickly and in succinct. As I move to counter their attacks, it is clear that they have fought together many times and that, quite well.

With a snarl and a whirl of my cape, I flip backwards, and then, using the wall behind me, push with my legs, propelling me toward them. The time for games are over; they are good, very good and I need to end this quickly.

Drawing on the Force I begin to increase my speed as I go on the offensive, startling them with my sudden aggression.

Then, I see it: Jinn is weakening because despite his skill with the Force, he is old. He only falters slightly, but it is enough and I take advantage, disarming him and capturing his lightsaber with a simple twist of my wrist, easily placing my red blade and his green blade at his neck in an entrancing angle.

Kenobi automatically pauses and I can feel the rising panic from him that he is obviously trying to hard not to feel.

So typically _Jedi_.

"You are beaten," I say clearly, tonelessly, to Kenobi. "Lower your weapon."

"And if I don't?" he answers, his voice hard, lightsaber still high.

I smile mirthlessly. "Your master dies," I answer with a shrug, tilting my head at him.

"Don't do it Obi-Wan," Jinn says tersely, wincing as I press the blades closer. "That's an order!"

"I'm sorry, Master," Kenobi says softly as he begins to lower his weapon.

Did I say typically Jedi? I meant _sickeningly_ Jedi.

Using the Force, I call Kenobi's weapon to me, smirking as I hang it on my belt, never taking my eyes off of my foes.

"If this is all the Jedi have to offer, then I don't have much to worry about," I say, shaking my head as I disable Jinn's lightsaber while shoving him away and placing it on my belt with Kenobi's. The older man stumbles but Kenobi is automatically there to catch him.

"You are a Sith," Kenobi says, stating the obvious, ignoring my insult.

"Perceptive," I say, sarcasm leaking through my voice. "What alerted you? The red lightsaber? The fact that I tried to cut you in two?"

"Why are you here?" Jinn interrupts, eyes following my every movement. "And why didn't you kill me?"

"I still can," I respond, eyebrows raising, "and I probably will. But not today. Call this little meeting a friendly introduction."

Kenobi's eyes widens. "An introduction?"

"Yes," I confirm, nodding slightly. "I want the Jedi to know just who they're fighting against. It's only fair, no?"

"That's not the way the Sith operate," Jinn says harshly. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm not most Sith, Master Jinn," I say. Then my voice hardens as though carved from ice, "And it's simple: I want the Jedi to search high and low for me, to meditate on the Force, to scurry like the rats you are to discover my identity only to realize in the end that even with ample warning, you still failed, you were still destroyed."

A stunned silence meets my announcement and I smile cooly at their disbelief.

"Arrogance and pride were always the downfall of the Sith," Jinn reacts finally, eyes narrowed though I can tell he is unsettled by my words.

"And yet we remain," I say softly, tauntingly. "Even with the efforts of the oh-so numerous Jedi, the Sith yet exist." I shake my head, amused by that truth. "But as fun as this is, I must leave you now. I have other… _duties_ to attend to."

"This isn't over," Kenobi states through gritted teeth, face red from suppressing his anger.

"Right you are, _Master_ Kenobi," I respond, every ounce of distaste for his title in my voice. "It has only begun."

Suddenly, a rock clangs against a can nearby, automatically drawing a quick glance from the Jedi. But when they look back a second later, I am gone.

I wait silently in the shadows as the Jedi begin to back out of the passageway, wisely choosing to retreat and fight another day lest I change my mind and decide to kill them.

When they are gone, I move forward with narrowed eyes.

Moments later, Darth Maul, cloaked like myself, joins me, silently moving to my side from his hiding place nearby.

"Did everything go as planned, Master?" he rasps, eyes gleaming.

"Better," I respond cooly, crossing my arms. "Much better."

He says nothing, only nods, following me as I turn to leave.

I admit, I did not expect Kenobi and Jinn to be so good and even now, I am out of breath. If I had not been so anal about my lightsaber training, I would not have been able to best them.

I will not underestimate them next time.

Yet, I am very pleased with the way this meeting went. This demonstration was not to kill, doing so, so soon after Kenobi finding me would have been suspicious indeed. No, the point of this little episode was to make a point.

I want the Jedi to know that I am here, I will not hide and sulk in the shadows as Palpatine did. I am a new generation of Sith, one that will rock this galaxy to its core.

Darth Vader is here and now, everyone knows it.

End of Chapter 12: Please review

**Chapter 13: To Dare A Senator**: Amidala accepts a bet.

**A/N**: Thank you to everyone that reviewed last chapter:

Freefan1412, May Arisa, Irene Sharda, RubyDracoGirl, Madi, O..verP..owered, Whitetree-Nimloth, Vaneesa85, Imperial warlord, Ghille Dhu, The Lifeless girl, Dizzlator, PlacateDrive, badkidoh, ambre, Grz, BANE19, ILDV, Loteva, Master Esso Antos, Rachie81, JourneyRocks13, ForeverFireandIce, Chocolatam, Anakin-Jason-Skywalker-Kenobi, Padawan Sydney Bristow, angie, wannabe kairi, dragonball256, the dawg, narxxnes, LordAedan,Young at Heart21 and 7 guests.

Once again, thank you all and please continue to review. It's priceless.


	13. To Dare A Senator

Note 1: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse.

Note 2: Thank you to my betas chrishuyen and Young at Heart 21. You guys are great. Also, thank you to Anakin Jason Skywalker Kenobi Jinn for reading this chapter.

Note 3: This chapter is rated M for content.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 13: To Dare A Senator**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**D**__arth __**V**__ader_

I stretch as I arrive at my office in the Senate, taking off my cloak and redressing in my senatorial robes before settling behind my desk.

Playing with the Jedi had been fun, and now, it is time for even more.

It is almost noon and Amidala should be here within the next few minutes for our lunch.

I'm a bit curious to see if she will come or not, though I suspect she will; she seems determined to prove to me that she is not a coward.

It's quite amusing.

I smirk as I hear my receptionist move to answer the door. So, Amidala did come after all, exactly as expected.

I rise as Amidala sweeps in, her lips pinched, her eyes glaring. She is wearing a dark blue and white dress that covers every part of her. It's probably purposeful, a subtle message to me that she off limits.

If only she knew the plans I have for her, plans that are being carried out in this very moment: She wouldn't have bothered with such messages.

"Amidala," I greet with a smile, "so glad you could make it."

"As if you didn't know I'd come," she retorts immediately, eyeing my office as she nears my desk.

"True," I concede, "I knew you wouldn't back down from a challenge. You haven't yet."

I smirk inwardly at the annoyed glare she sends my way. She is so full of energy and rage, it's intoxicating. I can't wait to touch that passion, that fire.

"Shall we go?" I continue, moving from behind my desk and toward a well-hidden door. "This is my private exit. No one will see us leave together."

"I thought we were eating lunch here," she responds, suspiciously.

"I never said that," I reply with a shrug, "I said that we could _meet_ here. Besides, I know a nice little place we can eat that will afford us the utmost privacy. No reporters, I promise."

She bites her lip, frowning at me before nodding curtly.

I hold back a laugh as I return her nod, gesturing with my hand that she go first: I am a gentleman, after all.

She shoots me another glare before moving forward, gliding gracefully across the carpet and through the exit.

As we walk down the hall, my eyes slowly run over her form. She is a fine female specimen, with curves in all the right places and a generous amount of breasts. She is short, too, but that's not a bad thing.

I look up at the sudden sound of a throat being cleared in irritation. My eyes rise to meet her annoyed brown ones.

"Are you quite finished?" she asks tersely, obviously noticing my perusal.

"Just admiring the view," I respond slyly, as we reach the private hangar where my hovercar is.

She smirks, "Well, do enjoy it. It's the closest you'll ever get."

I laugh. "You are quite confident that you can resist me, Amidala. Perhaps too confident. What say you to a dare?"

"A dare? Why the hell would I do something like that?" she asks scornfully.

"Because you don't want me to think you're a coward," I reply promptly, slyly, fighting to hold in my laughter at her sudden and intense frown.

I can almost see the knobs turning in her head: she is so incredibly easy to manipulate that it's pathetic.

"Very well," she says, lips thinning as she stops and turns to me. "What is this dare?"

"I dare you to allow me to kiss you. You must give me from this moment to the time we get back to the Senate to do so," I say with a smirk. "And if you're as strong willed as you think, you should have no trouble resisting the effect of my kiss."

Her eyebrow arches as she tilts her head to look at me, her face expressionless. "Fine," she says after a long moment, continuing to walk. "I accept your dare. I hope you're as smooth as you think you are, Skywalker."

I merely grin, amused by her pride.

This is going to be _so_ much fun.

#*#*#*#*#

The restaurant we go to is called the "Secret Fin" and is one of the few places my very private and anal sensibilities will allow me to frequent.

It is truly a posh place, having low, yellow lighting and comfortable chairs and booths. The food is edible and the service is adequate. But more than that, it has privacy screens that makes it virtually impossible to see who else is in attendance.

My kind of joint.

"Hm," Amidala says, obviously impressed as she takes in the upscale atmosphere. "I never knew this place existed. At least it can be said that you have good taste in restaurants."

"Is that a compliment?" I ask, eyebrow raising.

"Perhaps," she allows with a smile. "I do know how to give those out, you know."

"Really?" I say in mock surprise. "I wasn't aware."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Skywalker," she replies quietly.

"Well, hopefully, I can learn some right now," I say softly.

Her smile drops and her eyes widen before she blushes and looks away.

I smile, amused. Amidala is such a compelling blend of contradictions. It's fascinating to watch her as I never know what she's going to do next.

She clears her throat. "So… tell me what your favorite film genre is."

I shrug. "I don't really watch films. I've only ever seen a few."

"What?!" she gasped, looking outraged. "That's a travesty. We're going to have to change that as soon as possible." She cocks her head to the side, studying me for a moment. "If you don't like doing the most amazing hobby in the galaxy, what _do_ you like to do?"

A vision flashes of me merrily skipping through the Senate, decapitating every politician and Jedi I come across. Finally, I shrug, a small smile on my face. "Nothing you'd be interested in."

She arches an eyebrow, falling silent as our waitress comes and takes our order, placing two glasses on the table and filling them with red wine before leaving.

"Tell me this, Skywalker," Amidala says suddenly, her brown eyes gazing seriously at me, "do you believe in true love? And I'm talking about romantic, soul mate love, not familial love."

I sit back in my seat, reaching to take a sip of my wine, frowning at her. I'm surprised at the question considering the source; Amidala has never struck me as a romantic.

"I think the first order of business would be to define true love," I say slowly, twirling my wine around in the glass.

"Well, what is it to you?"

My frown deepens. I've never really thought about it because it's never been important. I've never experienced any type of that useless emotion and I'm stronger than I've ever been…

A sudden vision of a woman with dark hair and a tired, but warm smile swims before my eyes before I blink it away.

"I couldn't say," I respond finally. "I could speculate, but it wouldn't be based on reality."

"Ah," she says, and I hate the way she says it as though it fucking _means_ something. And the way she's looking at me infuriates me, as though she _pities_ me.

"What about you?" I ask curtly, ire rising. "Do _you_ know what true love is?"

"Well, like you, I can only speculate," she replies, fingering her glass. "But unlike you, I think that's okay."

"Do enlighten me then," I say, taking another sip of my wine. "What exactly does Padmé Amidala think love is?"

"Trust," she says suddenly, quiet and serious, "being able to be yourself around your mate, no matter how crazy that is. Looking at her and knowing that wherever you are, you'll always be home as long as she is there. True love is knowing that you can't live without her, that nothing in the world is more important than being with her. True love is that funny, warm feeling that you get when you look into her eyes; it's the ability to be happy, even when things are bad."

I am silent for a moment, contemplating her words. The thought of such emotions are… strange and uncomfortable. True love sounds crippling, unrealistic and completely whimsical; it might as well be a lightsaber through the midriff.

She smiles, apparently at the look on my face.

"You don't think it's possible," she states matter-of-factly.

"I don't think two people are capable of compromising in a way that would allow that type of love. People don't seem to realize that one and one equals two: that's not a relationship. A true relationship is when two become one and you can only do that if you are willing to give up half of who you are," I respond.

A delicate eyebrow arches. "That is surprisingly intuitive of you," she says, "perhaps, despite your objections, this is what you truly want."

I tilt my head at her as yet another vision plagues me; I am on a bed, ferociously pumping between Amidala's legs as she claws my back, arching to meet my savage thrusts.

I blink and the vision is gone.

"It's similar," I say, smirking evilly at her.

"I don't like that look on your face," she says laughingly. "But okay."

I look up as the food arrives, smiling slightly at her look of delight.

"I never knew you were such a romantic," I say, as I began to eat my dish: Corellian spiceloaf, "and I never knew you enjoyed food so much."

"Well, now you know," she says, smiling wryly at me as she digs into her _Csolcir_.

We are silent as we eat our food. I am satisfied with my meal; it's not bad.

When I look up from my plate to take a sip of my wine, I find Amidala eyeing my spiceloaf. "That looks tasty," she says suggestively, before reaching over with her fork and snagging a piece of my meal.

"Hey!" I cry in mock outrage. "Food thief! Well, two can do that!" Swiftly, I reached over and capture a piece of her _Csolcir_, pushing it into my mouth triumphantly.

"That's delicious," I say smugly, washing it down with another gulp of wine.

"Isn't it?" she asks softly and I am conscious a sudden softening of her eyes.

My smile fades upon seeing it. Noticing my perusal, she coughs and looks away, a stain reddening her cheeks.

I gaze at her, confused by the strange feeling welling within me. Frowning, I dismiss it. It's probably this Force-damned spice loaf; it's not good enough for my Sith stomach.

"Skywalker? It's about time to return to the Senate," Amidala says, waving a hand in my face, cutting through my thoughts. "But I have to freshen up before we go. I'll be back."

She sends me a small smile before rising and moving toward the ladies' room. I watch as she walks, once again taking note of her grace, of how regal she is. I wonder if she was taught to walk like that, or if her gait is natural, a reflection of who she is.

Before she can completely disappear from my sight, something moves into my line of vision; a man.

I grit my teeth as I realize who it is: It's Bud Sabers, a reporter who's decided it's his job to chronicle my conquests.

How had he gotten in here? And why haven't I killed him yet? Both are really good questions.

"Anakin Skywalker," Bud Sabers exclaims, flashing gold teeth as he eyes me. "I didn't know you were here, so nice to see an old friend again."

I close my eyes, calling on the Force for patience. I really should have included reporters in my decapitation fantasy.

He glances at the second plate on the table.

"And you're here with a friend," he says excitedly, and I can almost see the credit signs in his eyes.

"Go away," I say quietly, fighting back the snarl threatening to blossom on my face. It was important for me to keep a lid on my more… _volatile_ emotions. When they are unleashed, people usually die.

"Oh, you don't mean that," the fool says dismissively, a sly smile on his face. "Who's your date today, Senator Skywalker? A famous actress? An old matron? A fellow senator?"

"Sir," a voice interrupts; it's the waitress, moving toward us and looking at Sabers with an annoyed expression on her face. "On-duty reporters are not allowed in here. We have a very strict policy regarding our guest's privacy; you must leave immediately."

Sabers opens his mouth to retort but quickly bites back his protests upon spying the quick approach of very muscular security personnel.

Paling, he begins to back away. "Sure, sure, of course," he says with false cheer, "I'll see you soon, eh, Senator?"

I nod to my waitress as she leaves; it's good to see someone doing their job competently for once.

I am standing with Amidala returns, having already paid and generously tipped the waitress.

"We have to go," I say tersely, grabbing her arm. "There's a reporter stalking me and before you go nuts, I didn't set this up."

She frowns at me suspiciously before nodding. "I understand that well enough," she acknowledges, "I have my fair share of 'followers'."

"This way," I say, pulling her behind me to the front of the restaurant.

"Why are we going out through the front?" she asks, stumbling as I tug her in my wake.

"Because he's going to be expecting us to go out the back," I respond matter-of-factly. "I've encountered Sabers enough to know how he operates."

As soon as we hit the entrance, we're running through the street, dodging patrons left and right.

"Running away from people seems to be a theme with you," she shouts as we round a corner.

"Keeps things interesting," I return with a smirk, looking over my shoulder to see that, sure enough, that fucker Sabers is chasing us.

"Over here," I say, pulling her into a district popular for its young and… liberal patrons.

As we run, I grin upon hearing Amidala's gasp. The young people here have no qualms about racy art, outrageous forms of self-expression and… public displays of affection. Even now, there are several couples in various states of disarray, tongue dueling and nearly humping one another for any random sentient passing by to see. The Coruscant Security Force has given up trying to run them off; not only are they persistent in staying but they draw other youth; youngsters who have lots of cash.

I lift an eyebrow slightly as we take another turn down a short, narrow alley, reaching a dead end.

Then, I smirk as an idea occurs to me.

Turning to her, I pull her close, smiling as her nose bumps mine.

"What are you doing?" she hisses, trying to push away from me.

"I saw this in an old film once," I say casually, pressing my lips to the skin behind her ear. "The pursuers always run pass when the protagonists are making out. You're a film buff, you know all about it. Besides," I remind her with a smirk, "you took my dare."

Without allowing her to say another word, I grasp her face firmly in my palms and give her red, delicious lips a slow, sensual lick. Her eyes widen at my bold action, and her arms flail for a minute before grasping my arms tightly.

I close my eyes as I begin to systematically attack her mouth, moving my lips to each corner of the opening.

She gasps at my actions and it's all I need to thrust my tongue inside her warm, wet hole. Her eyes are fluttering as I suck on her tongue, causing her to strain against me, her body shuddering even as she tenses in my arms. I pull back, enjoying the surge of lust that spikes through me, of the heat I feel radiating off of her body.

"Amidala," I purr, pulling back without breaking skin contact, running my lips across her cheek. "You taste so good… like almonds," I whisper against her mouth. I am cognizant of Sabers running pass, ignoring what is just one of the many young and horny couples making out.

"You feel good too," I continue, moving my hands down her body and giving her ass a tight squeeze, pushing her against me in the process. She moans breathlessly, "So soft and plush."

I smirk as she clings to me mindlessly, her eyes wide as saucers, fighting the sensations that are surely overwhelming her.

It's as I said before: this is much too easy.

I frown slightly as I suddenly feel her stand on her tiptoes, grasping me by the neck and pulling me down closer to her.

"Okay," she gasps, "you were right. You… you know what you're doing with the kissing thing."

I smile smugly; it's always wonderful to hear a woman actually admit that she is wrong.

"But you forgot one thing," she continues, as she pulls backs slightly to look into my eyes, "yourself."

My eyebrow arches."Oh?" I ask scornfully, softly, "is that so?"

"It is," she says, breathing hard, and I can feel her breath against my lips, "you think you're so smart, so irresistible. But you're just like every other man, ruled by your dick."

I start when her lips suddenly press delicately against my skin and I clench my teeth, frowning as I feel myself harden.

"Oh," she says coyly, "I think you _like_ that. Skywalker Jr. Just stood at attention."

"You bitch," I murmur as I feel her tongue experimentally dart out and touch my neck. "You think you can best me?"

"I don't think," she whispers, "I know. I told you before that a look would be all you'd get. But why leave it there when I can torture you so much more by giving you a taste of what you'll never have?"

My body clenches even harder at her words, her duplicity. Force, I'm going to fuck this woman into oblivion.

"How does it feel?" she asks softly, nuzzling my neck, "to be beaten at your own game? Because you see," she continues, pressing her slim body against me, "politics is more than being able to talk, it's about being able to act as well, to battle your way to victory, to step out of your comfort zone to get what you want."

"It amuses me that you think I'm easy to manipulate, it's so obvious that you think so," she says with acid sweetness. "But I think you've learned your lesson now."

She pulls away from me, her lips twisted into a smug smile, her chest heaving from exertion.

I study her swollen lips for a moment and shake my head slowly. "I have learned a lesson, Amidala, but not the one you intended," I murmur, my arms tightening around her like a vice, not allowing her to move away.

"I always knew that you were different from the others, special, and now I can see how very true that is," I whisper, staring into her eyes, being so close as to see the gold flecks there. "You have thrown down the gauntlet and now, I have picked it up. You're mine now, Amidala. Mine."

I hold her for a moment longer before allowing her to move, her nose flaring as she finally breaks away from me, "I think it's amusing that you think I would belong to you," she says scornfully.

I smile and this time, it's a tender as I gently touch her cheek. "It's not me that's decided that, Amidala, it's you."

She frowns, stepping away from me. "What are you on about?"

"You see me as worthy," I say softly, allowing her the distance. "You allowed me to touch you, to hold you, to ravish you in public," I wave around us, indicating how anyone could have stumbled upon us. "You would never have let just any man touch you, you _haven't_ allowed any man to touch you. But you let me and you did it because you realized that you've finally met your match, an equal. You know that you belong to me."

She stares at me for a moment before shaking her head. "That's rubbish," she murmurs, "and people don't really talk like that."

"I don't think it is, and you know it," I respond, ignoring her last statement. "But it's okay if you resist me, it's nothing more than I expect. It's what I want, even."

She gives me a look that clearly says she thinks I'm a lunatic. "Well, if it eases your mind to think so," she says, rolling her eyes, "then very well. Now, if we're done dodging your paparazzi, I'd like to be returned to the Senate now."

"Sure," I say cheerfully. "But you might want to fix your hair… and clothes."

Looking down at the perilous state she was in, she blushes hotly, turning away from me to fix her clothes and hair. "This won't happen again," she says stubbornly, throwing a glare over her shoulder. "It was, as I said, a demonstration."

"If it behooves you to think so," I reply with a laugh. "You may."

She bristles at my words but says nothing, choosing instead to turn around and flounce off.

Grinning I follow her.

It takes no time at all to return to the hover car, Sabers having long since lost of us.

We are silent on the way back to the Senate and as soon as we arrive, she leaves without another word.

My smile fades as I watch her leave, it being replaced with a calculating stare.

If there were any doubts before, any hesitation about her, there are none now.

Padmé Amidala is mine. She belongs to me.

She is tempting and fiery and oh so very interesting. She will be a fitting consort for the ruler of the galaxy, one that will be able to make intelligent decisions in my absence but will happily and willingly relinquish all control to me when necessary.

I turn, making my way to the afternoon senatorial session.

She will love me, of course and then her will, her desires, will belong to me. She has told me what she wants, what she longs for and I will give it to her, because despite all of her objections and bluster, Padmé Amidala wants someone to conquer her, that much became obvious today. Even now I remember the look in her eyes when I claimed her, when I called her mine.

I saw apprehension, I saw desire, but most of all, I saw excitement.

Nodding to the senators already in the room, I take my place at the table.

By the time I am done, Amidala will see, speak and hear only me. She will breath me; I will be her everything.

It will be a challenge, a true task, but one I am heartily looking forward to.

A smile twitches at my lips.

Amidala does not yet understand what she's gotten herself into, what it means to belong to a Sith, but soon, she will and it will be my pleasure to enlighten her.

End of chapter 13: Please review!

**Chapter 14**: Close Calls

A/N: Okay, there were some questions about the last chapter: Obi-Wan didn't recognize Vader because Vader had a heavy cloak on and he never lowered the hood. Another question: Why didn't Amidala tell Obi-Wan about the changing yellow eyes? First of all, they might be friends but they both have busy schedules, so they don't see one another as often as they'd like. I figured she'd likely forget something as insignificant as that. I call it insignificant because, remember, Amidala works closely with many different species. To see such a thing is probably commonplace for her. That's my reasoning, anyway.

One more, someone said they felt this was moving slowly and… you're absolutely right! ^_^

I really dislike movies and shows where I have no idea why two people fell in love (Twilight) and I don't want that to happen here. By the end of this story, I want both of these characters to have personality and I want everyone to know why they fell in love with one another. So… while things, as you see, are starting to heat up, there needed to be a build up. Okie? I hope that clears up any confusion.

A/N2: Kudos to anyone who caught my "10 Things I Hate About You" line. If you haven't watched that movie, do so. It's awesome.


	14. Close Calls

Note: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse. Also, thank you to my betas chrishuyen and Young at Heart 21.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 14: Close Calls**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**P**__admé __**A**__midala_

I blink as I stare unseeingly at my holovid.

After spending 10 long hours at the Senate, I am finally home.

Preparations for the Regional Delegation being held on Monday has required most senators to put in extra hours in an effort to organize the event and finalize the representatives for each quadrant. I, myself, was picked to be a delegate for the final talks, a development that isn't surprising; indeed, it is one that was fully expected.

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, I finished my duties for the day and now, I am home in my sanctuary, in the one place I can be myself without fear of recrimination. I should be happy, but I'm not.

I feel… _restless_.

With a sigh, I turn off the 'vid, wrapping my arms around myself as I move to the veranda.

Pulling out my com, I input Obi-Wan's frequency hoping to reach him. But like the last couple times I tried, his com signals busy.

It makes me wonder what's going on. Obi-Wan usually answers the first time I com him, and if he doesn't, he calls back within the hour.

Something must be happening within the Order, because not only has Obi-Wan not answered any of my coms, but I have seen an increased number of Jedi both on the streets and in the Senate. They all seem tense, alert, as though they're looking for something.

Whatever it is, I hope Obi-Wan is well. For now, all I can do is wait and hope he coms back.

I sigh as I stare gloomily over the beautiful night view of Coruscant.

It's pathetic, really; the only person in the whole galaxy that I feel comfortable talking to is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I could com my mom… but she's my _mom_. As much as I love her, there are certain things I cannot tell her; she'll worry and that's the last thing I want. I could call my sister, but she actually_ has_ a life, a family to care for; I cannot burden her with my problems either. And my dad? No, just… no. Any conversation with my dad about a man involves me providing an excess of personal information including an address so he can "take care of it."

I could com Mon Mothma or Bail Organa, but, we're not close enough for me to tell them about my feelings. As far as they're probably concerned, I don't have any anymore.

But Obi-Wan… I can talk to him about anything and he just… _listens_. Even when I know he doesn't agree with me, he just allows me to talk, to pour out my feelings. He's the most nonjudgmental person I've ever met, even when he's disagreeing with me. Talking to him will clear my head and I might even figure out why I feel so _off_…

Suddenly, I smile as my com goes off.

"Obi-Wan?" I answer it eagerly, a smile in my voice.

"Nope," a voice replies cheerfully, "try again."

I pause for a moment as crushing disappointment descends on me, frowning at the familiar timbre of the voice.

"Anakin?" I ask cautiously, incredulously.

An amused chuckle filters though the phone. "Yes, it is I."

I scowl, resisting the urge to chuck the com across the room. "How did you get my frequency?" I demand harshly, nose flaring. _No one_ knows my com frequency unless I tell them and rightly so as I've gone through a great deal of trouble to make it that way. It begs the question; how the hell did _he_ get it?

"… I have people," he answers smugly and I wish that he was in front of me so I could hit the smirk off his face that I _know_ is there. And why am I unsurprised that his friends are of the criminal variety?

I pause for a moment to squeeze the bridge of my nose, praying to the Force for patience. "What do you want, Skywalker?" I ask sharply, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

"Skywalker?" he responds laughingly, "what happened to 'Anakin'?"

I grit my teeth, ignoring his words, cursing the fact that he caught my slip. But I'm not surprised he did; he seems to catch everything.

"Skywalker," I say warningly.

"I was lonely, so I commed," he responds jovially, not sounding at_ all_ lonely.

"What, were all your women are out for the night?" I ask sarcastically.

"I don't know," he answers, and I can almost see him shrug, "I didn't call them; I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh really," I respond, trying to ignore the sliver of warmth threatening to go through me at his words.

"Yes," he answers seriously, "I wanted some intelligent conversation tonight and I knew you could give that to me."

"What?" I ask smirking, settling onto the floor of the veranda, my back pressing against the cool stone, "are your regulars more the physical than the cerebral type?"

"Something like that," he admits, "but that gets really old really quickly."

"Is that so? Then why do men continue to pursue such women?" I ask.

"Because they haven't found themselves yet," he answers immediately, with conviction. "Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with loving a beautiful woman as long as you're not into her for her looks alone. Looks are temporary; they fade. You have to look for something more substantial, even if it doesn't come in the most glamorous package."

"Does this mean you haven't found yourself?" I respond, eyebrow raised at his words. I don't understand why he says such… amazing things when he's so… _him_.

"No… it just means I hadn't found what I was looking for before," he responds softly.

"And you have now?"

"Yes."

I frown at his words; he isn't even _trying_ to hide the fact that he's talking about me. It's like my words, my insistence that I'm not interested, mean _nothing_ to Skywalker. I mean, really! This man just doesn't seem to know when to _quit_. I should be annoyed, and I _am_… but underneath the irritation lies a feeling that is creeping into my being against my will: I feel _flattered_, validated in a completely archaic and primitive way. I have never had a man pursue me with such diligence, such determination. I may have undergone a transformation and I may be quite different from the sweet naive girl I was years ago, but I'm still a _woman_. And Anakin Skywalker, damn him, is appealing to that big time.

"What makes you think the one you're interested in is also interested in you?" I ask sharply, glaring at the com, trying to stamp down those unwelcome feelings.

"I just know," he answers, "and if she isn't now, she will be."

I feel a chill go down my spine at his confidence, the utter conviction in his voice.

"And how would this happen?" I ask suspiciously.

"I'd woo her of course," he answers slyly and I can hear the smile in his voice, "I'd start with something small."

"Like a com call?" I ask him quietly, daring him to lie about his intentions towards me.

"Like a com call," he confirms softly and I allow a small smile to grace my features.

And as we continue to talk, I try to remain distant from the discussion, fighting the smiles and laughter that sneak up on me during the course of our conversation, but it gets harder and harder with each passing moment.

Skywalker is funny, _really_ funny and he has a mean streak too, which I admit, makes him even more attractive. He's extremely intelligent which is a _major_ turn on. His wit is sharp and dry and he uses sarcasm in spades which is hilarious. And he has a nice voice.

A very nice voice.

Shaking my head and snickering quietly at a remark Skywalker made, I glance at my chrono, my jaw dropping as I see that a whole _two hours_ have passed!

We've been talking for that long? How? _When_?

"Amidala?" I hear from my com, concern in Skywalker's voice, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I answer, faking a yawn, deciding that we had talked for _more_ than long enough, "I'm just getting tired."

"Very well," he responds after a moment, "I don't want to keep you up if you're sleepy. But perhaps… we can talk again tomorrow?"

I hesitate, staring at the com. He has been such a gentleman tonight, and I admit, he pulled me out of the mood I was in… _Give him a chance_, my mother had said. Perhaps… perhaps it is time to do so.

"Yes," I reply, softly, a sudden bout of shyness hitting me, "we can."

"Good," he answers, the warmth in his voice causing butterflies to flutter madly in my stomach, "I'll com you tomorrow."

"Okay," I answer, feeling a faint flush rise in my cheeks, "goodnight."

"Goodnight."

I immediately hit the button to disconnect the call, my mind and heart racing. That had been a surprise… but pleasantly so; wonderfully so, really. And as I sit here, I can't help but think about everything that I've experienced with Skywalker; our first meeting on the veranda at the Opera House, our surprise meeting at the food drive, our little excursion, our lunch at the _Secret Fin_, and now this com call… It has all been so exciting, so invigorating.

I've felt _alive_, something I haven't experienced since the invasion of Naboo…

For the first time in years, I begin to contemplate the notion of _not being alone_. Have I finally found someone special? Is Anakin Skywalker really that man…?

I shake my head, wrapping my arms around myself, my emotions raging.

But I still don't _know_ Skywalker; he could be anybody. Until I know more information, I cannot allow these… _feeling_s to overtake me. I just… need _more_.

And I will get some, starting tomorrow. So far, I have been taking it far too easy on him, but with the advent of these feelings, I must know if he is who he say he is.

If he isn't, I admit; it'll probably hurt me more than any other such karmacide venture that I've ever done. Exposing him as just one of the many charlatans out there will kill something inside me that has just begun to grow again.

But if he is genuine, if he is who he say he is; a miracle child; a slave turned senator who only wishes to better his sector then, perhaps… _perhaps_ I have found someone I can spend my life with.

But I have to know, and I _will_.

Let the karmacide commence.

#*#*#*#*#

This is a special case, I know it is, so, I'm not going to do this like I've done other cases, no, I'm going to get my information straight from the source and that calls for a covert operation.

I crouch where I am in the shadows, waiting for Skywalker to go pass.

I have donned my black outfit; black leggings and a black skintight shirt. Even the utility belt I have on my waist is pitch black. This suit was made to blend in with the dark and that is exactly what I intend to do.

For the past few weeks, I have been trailing Skywalker at every opportunity, memorizing his schedule and noting his frequent haunts.

So far, everything checks out.

He goes to the Senate, plays nice—and sometimes not so nice—with the other senators, then goes home.

He hasn't been out with one woman, not _one, _since I've been trailing him. As far as I can see, I'm the only woman he has had casual contact with as he's called me nearly every night since the first. I admit; this pleases me to no end.

There's only one blot in Skywalker's activities. Every Tuesday since I started trailing him, he's stayed at the Senate late, only to leave when it is dark. But he does not go home, no, he goes into the lower levels.

I've never followed him there, but tonight, I will.

I, myself, left the Senate earlier to prepare for this little excursion and now, I am in the shadows waiting for Skywalker to appear. Part of me wishes that he doesn't come, that he's stopped whatever he's been doing., but another part of me knows that such a thing is unlikely. People seem incapable of stopping themselves from doing wrong; they won't stop until someone makes them.

I wait another twenty minutes before he appears. Allowing several meters between us, I slip out of the shadows and follow him. The place where he leads me is bad; the walls are black with a substance I dare not identify and the ground is littered with trash. It only gets worse as we go farther in and I grit my teeth as the smell of sentient flesh and poverty begins to wash over me like a tidal wave.

We've been moving for several moments when he stops and turns around. I immediately still, slowing my breathing and heartbeat as I feel his eyes run over me. He stares into the shadows for a moment longer before continuing. I let out my breath slowly and continue as well, trying to remain calm.

I almost sigh in relief when he goes no farther. I am now deeper into the lower levels than I've ever been and I don't like it.

I'm never thought of myself as snooty or girly, but that's not what this is about. I am very conscious of the fact that I am one woman following a man that may or may not help me if I'm faced with a crowd of lusty, evil men—especially considering that I'm following him to expose his secrets. Not only that, this place is _awful_; there are truly no words to describe how horrid it is. No one should have to live in these conditions, _no one_. And it's to my shame that I live in such a luxurious palace while these people lie in the street in such filth.

But I can't help that I was born into a privileged family; what I _can_ do is improve the lives of these people. One day, slums such as this won't exist. I swear it on my life.

I pause and curse silently as Skywalker turns down a long alley.

There's no way I can follow him down there without being seen; I'm going to have to listen from above.

I move to the next alley and then the next, finally stopping when the walls of the buildings are close together, making it easier to scale. I am surprised to see that there are a plethora of old-fashioned fire escapes lining the wall, making things a bit more simple. Although it's helpful in this instance, it's sad to see that modern technology hasn't reached the levels this low; just another example of how these people have fallen through the cracks.

Now, to scale the wall.

Should be easy enough.

Taking a measure of my surroundings, I move back, judging the distance needed.

Moving into position, I close my eyes for a moment, taking yet another deep breath.

Then, eyes snapping open, I run quickly and silently over the ground, flipping off of one wall, then to the other, then to the other to grasp the lowest rung on the lowest-hanging ladder. Breathing steadily, I pull myself up the rungs. I have to side-ways jump onto several different ladders to reach the top.

On top of the building, I run as hard and as fast as I can, jumping over and dodging every obstacle until I am above the alley where Skywalker is.

Now, the trick will be to lower myself above Skywalker's head all without him hearing or seeing me.

Stealthily, silently, I move down the ladders slowly, my ears straining as I lower myself closer and closer to the two cloaked figures below, trying to discern their speech. When I am as close as I dare to go, I stop and listen.

Skywalker is speaking.

"Darth Maul, is everything in place?" he asks and the timbre of his voice immediately strikes me; it is _very_ different from what it is over the com and even in the Senate. Usually, it is warm and vibrant; but now it is cold, hard; _lifeless_.

It's disturbing.

"It is, Master," the other cloaked figure rasps, "it is as you have commanded."

"Excellent," he answers and the way he says it once again sends a chill down my spine.

"And your correspondence with our _friend_?" the last word crawls with Skywalker's distaste.

"… He is being taken care of, Master," the cloaked figure answers, a smirk in his voice. "He now knows to respect and fear the Sith. He will trouble us no longer."

"Very good, Maul," Skywalker says, icy approval in his voice. "Move forward with our plans. We must have everything in place at the appointed time."

"Yes, Lord Vader," the cloaked figure—Darth Maul—answers.

"And Maul?" Skywalker says as Darth Maul turns to leave, "I will take care of our other little problem. Leave it to me."

Darth Maul pauses for a moment then bows. "It is as you say, Master."

Then, he is gone down the alley, taking the turn leading deeper into the lower levels.

Skywalker watches him go and then moves down the alley himself, going back the way he came, toward the upper levels.

I wait for a few minutes before quickly and quietly moving down the ladder, dropping the final few feet to the ground like a _reekcat _before making my way back to my speeder.

Halfway to my destination, I feel my hair stand on end. Whirling around, I look back from where I came, and I draw up as I see a heavily cloaked, shadowed figure, _staring at me_.

Eyes widening, I blink, but when I open my eyes again, no one is there. I shake my head and pick up the pace: It must have been my imagination.

As soon as I reach my transport, I am starting my speeder and quickly flying out of there, uncaring of the trash I stir up or of the imbibed patrons that scream drunken curses at me.

I let out a deep breath, my heart beat becoming steadier the farther away I get from that place.

When I pull into 500 Republica, I turn off my speeder and close my eyes for a moment, allowing it all to sink in

So, I was right: Skywalker is hiding something.

Something _big_.

I take a deep breath, angry tears welling in my eyes.

Never in all my life had I ever wanted to be so _wrong_. Oh, but why did I have to be _right_?!

Skywalker is probably a criminal, a ringleader for a drug cult that calls their leaders by fastidious and completely ridiculous titles.

But perhaps I shouldn't jump to conclusions. I have no idea with a 'Sith Lord'is or why this 'Darth Maul' was calling Skywalker 'Master' and 'Lord Vader'. It might not be as bad as it looks; it may all be completely benign.

Yeah, and the Jedi might just wear pink hosiery under their robes.

I let out a short, unamused laugh as I exit the speeder and make my way toward my apartment. I know I am grasping at straws, clinging to 'maybes' but something inside of me still_ hopes_…

I blink in surprise as I stop on my floor, coming up short when I see a shadowed figure at my door.

Tensing, I squint, moving closer, preparing to reach for the weapon that is ever present.

As I move into the light, the shape takes form and I smile when I see who it is.

"Obi-Wan?" I exclaim in delight, "how are you? Where have you been?"

I frown at the tightness of his answering smile.

"Padmé," he says quietly, taking in my attire with hardening eyes, "I need you to come with me."

I nod, ignoring his silent censure at what he knows are my karmacide clothing.

"Obi-Wan," I reply slowly in concern, tilting my head at him as I gently place a hand on his arm, "is everything okay?"

He shakes his head ever so slightly and merely looks at me. I frown, but quickly move inside to change my clothes. In no time, I am out again, following Obi-Wan down the halls and out of 500 Republica.

Again.

I sigh as we move down the halls, farther away from my home, my bed. It looks like getting rest tonight is just not going to happen.

Moments later, we are flying through the air in his speeder.

Knowing I am safe with Obi-Wan, I take that opportunity to sit back and relax for a moment, closing my eyes as my mind replays everything that I've seen tonight.

Anakin Skywalker has a minion named Darth Maul. Darth Maul calls him Master and Lord Vader. Does Skywalker have a slave? It seems unlikely as he seems to despise slavery and rightly so if he was a slave himself.

So, what does it mean?

"We're here," Obi-Wan says shortly, interrupting my thoughts.

As I open my eyes, I frown, a slightly sinking feeling burgeoning in my belly: We are at the Jedi Temple.

I look at Obi-Wan questioningly, but he shakes his head again and leads me into the Temple through a hidden side entrance.

I try not to gape as we walk further and further into the stronghold of the most illustrious and powerful sect in the galaxy. It is a study of gold and purple and beauty. It is majestic, indeed, awe inspiring and I am impressed despite myself.

The Jedi Order and everything affiliated with it is one large mystery. The only people who really knows what's going on within its walls are the Jedi themselves. There aren't many people allowed in and only the Jedi and their staff have ever gone _this_ far in.

Finally, after what seems like forever, we stop in front of two massive doors. Obi-Wan turns to look at me once more and I am struck by the sadness on his face. Before I can question him, he visibly straightens up, his face becoming expressionless and opens the doors.

I inhale sharply as we enter. There, in the center of the room, is a semi-circle of pod-like seats and they are all filled with people who can only be Jedi Masters. I straighten instinctively as I recognize Jedi Masters Yoda, Mace Windu, and Qui-Gon Jin.

All twelve of the Jedi Masters are sitting tall, staring at me regally as I walk in and I am acutely aware that I am being gazed upon by some of the most legendary figures of my time.

I have seen some of them occasionally in the Senate, but I've never actually met them, even with the advent of my karmacide activities. Now, to have them all here in one place and to see me?

It's wholly unexpected.

Now, if I had been any other person, I would have been cowed by all the fame around me; I would have been trembling, waiting for this magnificent agglomeration of power to bestow their powerful voices upon my unworthy ears.

But me being me?

I wasn't.

"Okay," I say as the doors close behind me with a soft thud, eyebrows raised, mouth tight, "what the _hell_ is going on here?"

End of chapter 14: Please review guys!

**Chapter 15: Jedi**: An interesting meeting

**A/N**: Thank you to Wookieepedia for the Star Wars facts.

**A/N**: Sorry for the long periods between updates. If you haven't seen my profile, I will tell you guys now: There will be long waits for updates for a while. Right now, I'm preparing for graduate school and am doing a load of studying. I updated this time because one of my readers emailed me and asked me to do so for her birthday. Since she is such a faithful reviewer, I agreed to it.

So… **Happy Birthday, Ambre**! =] I hope this brightens up your day and that you have a fantastic birthday. Also, sorry if it's the 1st in France, it's still the 30th here in America. :]

Also, please review guys. They really do help. If nothing else, they remind me that people are still reading although I haven't updated in such a long time. That being said, I promise that when my life becomes less hectic, I will update more frequently (as I was attempting to do for a while). So… I hope you enjoyed the chapter, please tell me if you did or didn't and happy reading.

**A/N**: If there are any contradictions to canon here, please just go with it. ;]


	15. Jedi

Note: This fic is AU. Star Wars and its affiliates do not belong to me, only the contents of this Verse. Also, thank you to my betas chrishuyen and Young at Heart 21.

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 15: Jedi**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**P**__admé __**A**__midala_

The Jedi stare at me, their eyebrows rising in sync as though being directed by a conductor.

It would be funny if I weren't in the Jedi Temple in the middle of the night for what is obviously a meeting they don't want anyone to know about.

I shoot Obi-Wan an appreciative nod as he pulls up a chair behind me. Sitting down, I cross my ankles demurely, mentally preparing for a seige.

"Senator Amidala," Master Yoda begins, his voice commanding and strong, "called you here for a very important task, we have."

"Is that so?" I ask sardonically, nodding pointedly at the full assembly Jedi Council, all of whom are staring at me. "I never would have guessed."

The clearing of a throat behind my head has me turning in my seat to glare at the culprit: Obi-Wan. He only does that when he thinks I'm being outrageous. But he shouldn't have bothered because that's not going to work this time. The Jedi have some explaining to do, and if they think I'm going to pull my punches just because they're Jedi, then this meeting is going to be the shock of a lifetime.

The Jedi Order holds a unique position in the Galaxy. Seen as the Republic's most essential diplomats and law enforcers, the Jedi are the ones sent to divert wars and quell uprisings. Although little is known about them as they are a highly private and exclusive sect, they hold more legal power and pull than any organization in the Galaxy, being almost equal to the Senate. Generally, they work in tandem with the Senate although it is clear that they do indeed work… side projects.

But it still begs the question; what do they want with me? This little… meeting is obviously unsanctioned by the Senate for several reasons; the Senate liaison to the Order isn't here. Not only that, this assembly is being held in the Jedi Temple, not the Senate. Most people can enter the Senate after passing security checkpoints and if they have legitimate business there, but no one can enter the Jedi Temple without express invitation from the Council or unless being escorted by a Jedi.

It makes me think that whatever it is, it's _huge_ because just by calling me to this meeting, the Jedi are relying on my good will to remain quiet about this. Yet, this again makes me ask the question: why me? I am the senator famous for Karma-cide, for investigating covert activities like the one in progress at this very moment. Why would they place fodder for my blog right in my lap?

"We can see that you have many questions, Senator Amidala," Master Windu observes correctly. "Hopefully, we can answer some of them in the course of this meeting."

He pauses for a moment, a slight frown on his face before he speaks again. "What we are about to tell you cannot leave this room. Do you agree with these terms?"

I gaze at him for a moment before saying slowly, "That would be very difficult to agree to, seeing as I do not know what this meeting is about. Perhaps a bit more information is in order."

"We need your word, Senator Amidala, that you won't disclose the details of this meeting or that you were invited here tonight," Master WIndu counters steadily. "Then your questions will be answered."

I ponder it for a moment. "Very well, I will agree to keep this meeting between us. But if the information that you tell me needs to be known to the public, it will be told. In the event that this happens, I will tell you if I decide to do disclose."

It's the best they were going to get and by the looks on their faces, they know it. My eyebrows raise slightly in amazement as Master Windu nods, accepting my words. That they would agree to those terms is incredible. It makes the flames of my curiosity burn even hotter.

"So," I continue, tilting my head to the side a bit to look at them "why am I here?"

"We have been… reviewing candidates for this mission for weeks now until Master Obi-Wan assured us that you were the perfect candidate," Master Windu says, his back straight in the chair. "That is why you are here tonight."

My lip curls at this. These Jedi are clever, using my friendship with Obi-Wan to… _encourage_ my cooperation. There are not many things that could do such a thing, that could force my unwilling ears to listen, but this is one. And I don't appreciate it.

Not at all.

"As you know, the Jedi Order is an organization dedicated to being the guardians of peace and justice in the Galaxy. You also know that we use the Force when necessary to carry out our goals," Master Windu says, getting right down to the point.

"Right," I respond, drawing the word out, patiently waiting for him to continue.

"What you probably _don't_ know is that there are two sides to the Force; Ashla and Boga; the Light Side and the Dark Side. The Light Side of the Force adheres to the principles of honesty, compassion, mercy, self-sacrifice and the like. By contrast the Dark Side of the Force draws upon the powers of raw emotions such as anger, rage, hatred, fear, aggression and passion."

I nod, digesting the information with a slight frown. Before today, I've never really taken time to think about the Force, never stopped to decide if I believe that it exists at all, although most people _do_ even if they haven't actually seen it. The Jedi, though well-known for their powers and beliefs, aren't exactly exhibitionists. Most people have never seen the Force in action, indeed, at times it seems more like an urban legend than anything. Yet now, hearing someone talk about it as if there's no doubt that it exists in addition to telling me that there are two sides to this Force? It makes the likelihood of the Force being a farce implausible.

"Let's pretend that I know nothing about the Force," I say carefully, weighing his words, allowing some sarcasm to leak through my voice."I understand why anger, fear and hatred are undesirables, but please help me to understand why you're talking about the Dark Side as though it is to be avoided at all costs."

"That's because it is," another Jedi Council member speaks up. At my questioning gaze he nods slowly at me, a small smile gracing his thin lips. "I am Kit Fisto."

I return his gesture, his laid back attitude serving to ease some of my tension.

"The Dark Side consumers a Force User, Senator Amidala," Master Fisto continues, his large black eyes on me, "it cannot be controlled. If they fall to it, if they are seduced by the call of its power, then they are lost to it. Everything that made them good is destroyed by the negativity of the Dark Side and they become monsters. It is why those who turn to the Dark Side take on new names; they become different people. Under the influence of the Dark Side, a once peaceful Jedi would be capable of unspeakable horrors."

I purse my lips, settling in my seat to ponder this. This news is… _unsettling_ to say the least. Who knew that being a Jedi was so _complicated_? Suddenly, being able to use the Force doesn't seem like such a gift if using it improperly can turn a person into a monster.

"Can any Force user fall to the Dark Side?" I ask, closing my eyes to think.

"Unfortunately, yes," Master Windu answers, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest of his chair, "but it is a choice, Senator. Just as some have chosen to go to the Dark Side, just as many have chosen to remain with the Light."

I open my eyes, my frown deepening. As informative and, admittedly, freaky as all this is, there must be a reason why they're telling me information that they obviously don't want publicized.

"How do you know a Jedi has gone Dark Side?" I ask finally after a short silence.

"It is easy for a Jedi to identify a Dark Force user if they do not hide their Force signatures," Master Fisto answers, crossing his hands.

"Changes, their Force signature does," Master Yoda says, his voice grave, "dark and murky, red like it blood it becomes."

"Is that what you call them?" I ask, curious, "Dark Force users?"

"Force users who turn to the Dark Side have many names; Darksiders, Dark Jedi and…" Master Windu speaks up, folding his hands under his chin, "… the Sith."

I stiffen slightly as the word pierce me like a sharp knife.

The Sith.

I have heard that word before… earlier… when I followed Skywalker.

But surely…?

No…

Couldn't possibly be.

I blink, careful to keep my breathing and voice as even as possible. Never in all my years have I been so grateful for my Senatorial training. If I did not have it, I fear what I would have done.

"A Sith?" I repeat, feeling my mouth dry, but ruthlessly forcing myself to speak normally.

"Correct, you are," Master Yoda confirms, his hands crossed over a gnarled cane. "Most dangerous of all the Dark Side users, they are. Masters of Boga, are they. Found out, we have, that to Coruscant a Sith has come. For this task, do we need you."

I shake my head in an attempt to clear it, the word "Sith" bouncing around in my brain.

A Sith, that's what Darth Maul had called Senator Skywalker.

A Sith.

I take a small breath, my mind working at such a frenzy that I'm surprised the Jedi can't see it.

Surely it's a coincidence, right?

Surely…?

I sigh inwardly, resisting the urge to squeeze my temple.

It's not a coincidence and I know it's not. One thing I've learned in my Karma-cide activities is that there's no such thing and I won't insult my own intelligence by pretending that the obvious isn't true.

Senator Anakin Skywalker is a Sith, a user of the Dark Side of the Force.

And here I was thinking he was a drug dealer.

I _wish_.

I close my eyes for a moment to gather my composure. How the hell did my life become so fucked up so quickly?

"Exactly, how dangerous are the Sith?" I ask quietly, opening my eyes. Perhaps I'm a glutton for punishment, but I _need_ to know.

The Jedi pause, all of them turning to look at Master Yoda and I can swear, for a moment, they are all speaking to one another in their own Jedi way.

It's _annoying_.

And rude.

"Orchestrating this war, we think the Sith are," Master Yoda answers finally, his brown eyes hardening at the words, "Responsible for many historic galactic upheavals, the Sith were."

I wouldn't have been more surprised if the Jedi jumped up and started doing the Cancan dance around the room.

"Are you telling me," I state carefully, coldly as my mind processes the implications, the sheer_ enormity_ of his statement, "that you think a Dark Side lunatic is manipulating this war that is taking billions of lives and that this isn't the first time it's been done? They cause galactic wars for _fun_? And what do the Jedi do, exactly? Just sit back and allow this to happen?"

For a moment, all I can do is stare at them in disbelief, my view of the Jedi undergoing a sudden and very severe shift; the relatively benign organization is now… something _more_, something that makes me extremely wary.

If what the Jedi are saying is true, then that means that the Republic has been fighting a war against a faceless and unknown enemy for many years. It means that we've been walking into conflicts blind, unable to combat attacks that we didn't even know were occurring.

The very thought shakes me to my core.

How many lives could we have saved if we had known that the Sith existed? How many conflicts could have been avoided if we had known we were being manipulated?

For a moment I shake my head, pushing those questions to the back of my mind. If I try to think about all the implications at once, my head will explode. I need to focus on the task at hand.

"We thought that the Sith were extinct, Senator Amidala," Master Windu speaks finally, gravely, "We only just discovered that this isn't the case."

"But how can they be extinct if any Force user can turn to the Dark Side?" I ask, eyebrow raised. There are so many holes in their story that it's easy for me to see now why outsiders know so little about the Order. They'd need a holonavi just to follow their explanations.

"One does not simply _fall_ into the Dark Side," Master Fisto speaks, his head tresses moving as he shakes his head, "one has to be lured there. With the Sith, there is a system of two; a Master and an apprentice. When the Master dies, usually by being killed by his apprentice, the apprentice becomes the Master and then lures another powerful Force user to the Dark Side. Without a Master there is no apprentice; the cycle is broken and there is no Sith. We had thought that the Sith had all been killed, but we were wrong."

"Okay," I say slowly, willing to concede that point, "so they aren't all gone. How did you figure out that they're still around?"

There is a tense and weighty silence before a new voice adds to the fray.

"We were attacked by him," Master Jinn speaks for the first time since my arrival, "when Obi-Wan and I left the Temple one day to go on patrol, he was in the crowd. He led us to an alley and we fought… he won."

"What?" I say so icily that it could have frozen the whole of the room. I turn around slowly in my seat to stare at Obi-Wan only to find the Jedi staring at the wall with flushed cheeks, studiously avoiding my gaze.

"He allowed us to go," Master Jinn continues quietly, "even though he could have killed us easily. We were unarmed and he was… an incredible fighter. But he let us _go_." Master Jinn shakes his head as though he still cannot believe it even now. "What struck me most about him was how brash and bold he was, how _arrogan_t. The latter is a known characteristic of the Sith, but the boldness is very un-Sith-like. The Sith work behind the scenes, manipulating and plotting until they can strike. But this man… he wanted the Jedi to know he existed; he blasted his own cover wide open. We have no idea what to make of him, and we cannot investigate him the way we'd like…" Master Jinn gave me a pointed look.

"So you want me to do it," I finish, lips pursing.

"We believe that he is a person of influence, mayhap a senator or a legislator, as he knew when Obi-Wan and I were going on patrol. The only way he would have access to such information is if he held a fairly high position on Coruscant, most likely the Senate," Master Jin explains, forehead furrowing in thought. "You are a very prominent face in the Senate, no one would question it if you explored it's more obscure avenues while a Jedi's excess exploration would be noted immediately."

"Wait a second," I interrupt him with an arched eyebrow, holding up a hand, "you're assuming that I'm on board with your little mission."

"Senator Amidala," Master Windu says, leaning toward me, shoulders tense, "do you have any idea what's at stake here?"

I bristle at his words, immediately sitting up straighter in my seat, my voice cutting sharper than a lightsaber. "Well, I know that the Jedi's shit is coming back to haunt the whole Galaxy and that you want me to help clean up your mess. I know that you want me to help you track down a Force using maniac who, if I assume correctly, I'd have no chance of defeating if he knew that I was on to him," I say flatly, preparing to stand, "sounds like a _great _plan."

"Senator Amidala," Master Jinn implores, his intense eyes meeting mine, boring into me, "all of us know, you included, that coming to you was a risk. Knowing that, you can appreciate how serious this is for us. We're only trying to stop the Sith before he can do anymore harm. We do not want you to get close enough to get yourself hurt, we just want you to compile a list of possible candidates who would have access to finding out about the Jedi patrol schedule without alerting the Sith to our actions."

I stare at them all in turn for a moment before closing my eyes. There is a huge choice looming before me, one that _should_ be easy. I already know who the Sith Lord is, obviously. All I have to do is tell them and he'll be stopped; the Jedi'll be happy and they'll leave me alone.

And yet…

And _yet_…

I can't.

I shake my head, tightening my eyes so much it begins to hurt.

This is so wrong… this moment is _so wrong_ for me for s_o many_ reasons.

Why am I considering not telling the Jedi that Anakin Skywalker is the Sith Lord they're looking for?

It's easy; all I have to do is open my mouth and release the information into the air and the Jedi'll take it from there.

I just have to open my mouth.

Just open…my… mouth….

I shake my head slightly, sighing inwardly.

It's time to stop deluding myself; I already know what I'm going to do. I'm going to investigate Anakin Skywalker, but not for the Jedi, for myself. I want to see this Sith Lord in action. I want to do my own research, see if what the Jedi are saying about Sith Lords is true, if all of them are pure evil.

It shouldn't be too dangerous; Skywalker doesn't know that I know. It'll simply be a matter of continuing the way I have but with full knowledge of who he is.

I take a deep breath as I think about my many exchanges I've had with the man. It's hard to think that Skywalker is a monster; a jerk, perhaps, but a monster? That would mean that everything he's done, every interaction we've ever had has been a lie and I simply cannot believe that. I can smell bullshit a mile away and I admit, he's been giving off some pretty heavy fumes, but there have been times when I've see something beneath it all.

Something special… and real and _human_.

Don't I owe it to myself to see if this is true?

"I'm sorry," I say finally after what I know is a long time of silence on my part, "but I can't. I know you came to me in confidence and I respect that; I will not tell your secrets. But I won't do this."

I stand up, signaling the end of the meeting. "Obi-Wan," I say softly, wearily, turning to him. "Can you take me home?"

He nods.

I spare not another glance at the Jedi Council as I move out of the Council chambers, my mind in turmoil, my heart, sick.

What am I doing?

What if the spark I saw in Anakin Skywalker is really evil slipping through the facade? What if something happens that prevents me from informing the Jedi about who he is?

What if I'm dooming the Galaxy for my own selfish desires?

The thought makes my empty stomach nearly dry heave. What if, by this one decision, I'm responsible for the death of billions of people?

I close my eyes for a second as I feel a shudder of fear shoot through.

A mere two months ago I would have told the Jedi who he was in a moment, why not now?

Unbidden, Skywalker's words from our first outing came to me. He had said, "_Who will you be when it is all over? Are you ready to face the person that you might become? Are you prepared to look your beliefs in the face and abandon them? Can you make peace with the fact that your life, your will, your desires may all become undone?"_

He had been so confident, so sure. I, in turn, had scoffed at him, calling him a fool in my mind. But now…

Lips pursing, I violently shake my head, causing Obi-Wan to send me a frown of concern.

That's not what's happening here; I am not compromising my morals or the safety of this Galaxy. I am not changing,

I'm _not_.

And as we move through the massive halls of the Temple, I wish it didn't feel as though I was trying to convince myself.

#*#*#*#*#

"Thank you for bringing me home, Obi-Wan," I say with a small smile as I open the door to my suite. There's only a few hours left in the night and it'll be morning soon. But still, I'll try to get some rest. I seriously need to sleep on all the information I've been told, regain my energy so I can create a plan of action.

If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right. There can be no mistakes and a flawless plan requires sleep. Lots of sleep.

"It's the least I can do, what with me being the one to pull you out of here in the first place," he says, the smile on his lips not quite reaching his eyes.

"Obi-Wan," I ask suddenly, turning to him with narrowing eyes, "why didn't you tell me about the Sith attack?"

He twitched, before finally sighing, "I couldn't tell you Padmé."

"Ah," I say shortly, kicking off my shoes and placing them in the closet. The Jedi basically told him to keep it quiet. Wouldn't want everyone to know a Sith Lord is running around in the marketplace. I sigh suddenly and shake my head. Perhaps I'm being too hard on the Jedi. They do have a lot on their plate, after all and I guess I wouldn't want to spread massive panic either. I'm still not happy about what they're doing, but I can understand it.

"Oh, but Obi-Wan," I say with acid sweet, walking to him and gently touching his arm, "if you ever get attacked and not tell me, expect another one, okay?"

The array of emotions flying across his face is amusing; but what I see foremost is appreciation for my concern. I squeeze his arm and move away, shaking out my hair with a huge sigh.

It's good to be home.

I am moving around the place, getting comfortable when Obi-Wan speaks.

"Padmé," Obi-Wan begins softly and something in his voice makes me frown as I turn to look at him.

"What is it, Obi-Wan?" I speak carefully, concern lacing my voice.

"Padmé, I need you to do this for me," he says softly.

I stiffen, moving away from him.

"What are you saying?" I ask harshly, eyes narrowing on him.

"Remember Naboo?" he speaks after a long moment, turning to look at me. "You said you would pay me back."

I grow still, staring at him in amazed disbelief.

"What the hell did you just say?" I say carefully, eyes wide. "You are not serious."

"Padmé, I wouldn't ask this of you unless I really needed you to do this. The Jedi need this…" his voice trails off. He shakes his head, then he takes a deep breath and his voice hardens as he turns to me. "Padmé, I'm calling in your debt. Please do this for me."

_Please._ He thinks that saying _please_ is going to fucking help what he's doing?

For a moment, all I can do is stand there and look at him.

"Is this really what you want to do, Obi-Wan?" I ask quietly, my eyes never leaving his face.

He closes his eyes for a split second and then opens them, his gaze hard as flint. "Yes."

I blink, feeling my mouth droop, feeling as though the corners are being pulled down by heavy weight.

Naboo… how could he use that against me? After everything he saw I went through, after the way we bonded there… how could he…?

"Very well," I say finally after a long moment, nodding, "I gave you my word and as a Naberrie, I must honor it. I will try to find out about your Sith Lord."

I walk to my door and open it up.

"And now that you've gotten what you want, Master Kenobi," I say coldly, staring him straight in the eyes, "kindly get the fuck out of my house."

I don't even blink upon hearing Obi-Wan's sharp inhale of breath, upon seeing his face fall and as he walks slowly past me, there is much sorrow in his visage, so much sadness. But it does nothing to me, does nothing to shake the ice from my heart. I trusted him, _trusted_ him and he used our past against me, to _control _me.

How _dare_ he!

I don't even bother to hide my fury, my hurt and when I catch his eyes with my own. I hold it for a moment before turning away.

I don't want to look at him, or talk to him, or exchange hurt glances with him.

I just want him to leave.

And as the door closes, I feel so angry and violated and… _wounded_.

Ever since Naboo, Obi-Wan has been my rock. Even when he was gone away on a mission, I alway knew he'd be back, that if I needed him, he'd be there.

But what he just did crossed a line that shouldn't have even been neared. He knows how important it is for me to be _free_, knows how important it is for me to have control over my own destiny.

Suddenly, everything is just _too much_. I storm to my room and plop down on my bed, not even bothering to take off my clothes. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, aware of the furious tears rolling down my cheeks.

Perhaps I'm being unfair for asking to Obi-Wan to go against his superiors, but how far will they push him before he says no? Will he sacrifice everything for the Jedi Order? I know I don't fully understand, I'm not part of the Order and it's probably much more involved and complicated then that, but my wounded heart won't allow me to be rational; his actions hurt me to the core and I want him to know it. He could have told them _no_, he could have told them that he wasn't going to force me to cooperate.

And the Jedi! How _dare _they! Who the fuck do they think they are? Now, I'm not a monster; I am aware of the position that the Jedi are in. But they have resources that would put the Senate to shame; they could have found another way to gleam this information, but instead, they chose to try to control me.

I sit up and wipe my face with my sleeve; I've never been one to wallow in self-pity and I won't do it now.

Obi-Wan made his decision; he chose the Jedi Order over me. He hurt me, probably doesn't understand how much. Yet despite that, I know I'll forgive him. It won't be today, or probably even tomorrow; it might even take months, but eventually I'll forgive even if I never quite trust him the way I did before.

There's one thing I can appreciate, though.

The Jedi's bullheaded tactics have strengthened my resolve. If they would use such tactics on me, how do I know they're right about the Sith?

I shake my head, disgusted by their actions.

The Jedi want me to investigate the Sith? Very well, I will. I owe Obi-Wan a debt and I will repay because he will never do this to me again. _Ever_.

But I can promise one thing; the Jedi won't find out anything about their precious Sith Lord until I'm good and ready to tell them.

Anakin Skywalker is mine.

And the Jedi can go straight to hell.

End of Chapter 15: Please review guys.

**Chapter 16: Gala**: Attending a charity event.

A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed last chapter:

Starveforupdates, searth05, shieldmaiden19, AnarchistMongoose, Silent Jay, Jokehead, albusserverus0211, sk9486, LavenderStorm, Rookworm, Anjie, Padawan Sydney Bristow, LunaAnatolia, vampsydney, Anakin-Jason-Skywalker-Kenobi, Vaneesa85, angie, Glee Plane, dragonball256. FarmerJohn003, ragonen, livvi695, ForeverFireandIce, May Arisa, Irene Sharda, ForceFreakLeia13, Loteva, The LaughingMan1, GuardianSoulBlade, Imperial warlord, PlacateDrive, phantom-jedi1, Freefan1412, ILDV, ambre, O..verP..owered, BAM-it's-me, JourneyRocks13, badkidoh, Kyubbi123, Young at Heart21 and guests.

Your reviews mean more than you know. They're an incredible pick me up and I thank you all.


	16. Gala

**The Sith & the Senator**

**Chapter 16: Gala**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**P**__admé __**A**__midala_

Long red carpet, plush, molding to my every step.

Bright, sparkling lights.

The furious flash of hundreds of holocameras.

The press of thousands of excited, sweaty, bodies.

The scent of unquenchable hunger in the air.

It's supposed to be an altruistic event, a way for the rich to give back to the poor.

It's supposed to be an opportunity for the haves and the have nots to mingle.

It's supposed to be good.

But it's not.

It's _hell_.

I pause for a moment, holding myself proudly, regally, as picture after picture is taken of me.

It's the 21st Annual Fundraising Gala and it seems like the whole Galaxy has turned out to watch the procession of wealth and power in the Republic. At first, perhaps, this event was a purely humane gesture, but now, everyone knows what it is; it's a time for the rich to show how privileged they are and for the poor to wish that they had what we had.

And I despise it.

Tired of the noise and the endless flash of holocams, I continue my walk down the gauntlet of faceless sentients to reach the entrance of the Gala.

I did not want to come here tonight, indeed, I almost didn't. But I accepted the invitation some time ago and am always loathe to go back on my word.

So here I am.

Inwardly rolling my eyes, I nod at Senator Gonzalez as I pass him, the speculative gleam in his brown eyes making me want to claw them out.

I know what that look means. My standoffishness and aloofness has earned nearly as much popularity as my political activities and there's no doubt tongues are wagging at this very moment because I've chosen to show up to this social event alone. It would be perfectly okay for any other woman to do so, but because I'm _Padmé Amidala_, it's a big deal.

It's disgusting and so sexist it makes me want to shoot them all.

They'll call me the Ice Queen in their papers tomorrow and rave about my cold beauty and speculate even more on whether I'm seeing someone, if my cool exterior is a front for the passionate woman that is surely underneath. Then they'll discuss my dress and what it means, they'll analyze the heels I'm wearing and the tightness of my dress and what my thought processes were in choosing my hairstyle.

The senselessness, the meaninglessness of it all sometimes gets to me, no matter how hard I try to remain unaffected by it. Even my iron walls are not impenetrable.

"Padmé!"

I turn at the sound at my name, smiling at the owner of the voice.

She is dressed in a simple, but elegant, flowing white gown, her short hair indued with sparkles, making her shine and glimmer in the light.

"Mon," I return warmly, aware of the sudden increase in holocam flashes in our direction. "It's good to see you! I can relax now, knowing that I won't be surrounded by idiots the whole night."

"I won't disagree with you," she responds with a wink, her eyes running over my form. "Padmé, you look stunning."

I blink and smile, pleased at her words because I know it is said in the most sincere manner.

I am wearing a long, form fitting black gown, the highlight of it being an exquisite embroidered piece moving from the top of the bust to fan around my neck, a separate, matching piece adorning my head. It was a dress picked out by my sister long ago to wear on a special occasion and I thought now was a good a time as ever.

"Thank you, Mon," I reply gratefully, hooking my arm with hers, "I was just thinking that you look lovely as well."

She grins at me. "Oh, this old thing? It's just something I pulled out of my closet. To be quite honest with you, Padmé, after seeing how some of the senators here were dressed, I was starting to feel a bit like a nun! One senator had on so little clothing that I thought she was in the nude," Mon exclaims with mock shock, rolling her eyes as we finally enter the building, giving our coats over to the awaiting staff.

"I know what you mean," I agree ruefully, shaking my head. "It's like modesty is a thing of the past."

"To our detriment," Mon concurs sadly, with a sigh, "there is no romance anymore, no dance, no courtship. It's all sex, lies and power. Ladies these days don't know what they're missing, what it's like to be chased, to be the ones being pursued, and _not _being the pursuer. I'm just happy that we were blessed to grow up in systems that still prize such customs."

I nod in agreement, ignoring the other politicians, dignitaries and famous milling in the long, richly adorned cream colored hallway.

It is indeed a travesty. Women cut and threaten and push and play just like men and all in the name of women's rights. Yes, we deserve the same freedoms as men; the right to care for ourselves, to make our own decisions. Yet many women seem to have taken those rights as a free pass to be as horrible and filthy as men, to lie down in the mud with the dogs, so to speak. But, I suppose, women's rights does mean that as well; the ability to be as low minded as the most deviant man. I just wish that this hadn't been the choice so many woman made.

"Wow," Mon says, impressed, her eyes widening as we reach the entrance of the ballroom. "I have been a senator for a while now, but I don't think I will ever get used to such frivolous _excess_."

"I pray that I don't," I admit with a frown, taking in the splendor in front of me, "when you get used to such, you begin to take it for granted. But it does make you wonder how much fundraising money will be used to pay for this ballroom, doesn't it?"

The room itself is gorgeous, being large and reminiscent of the Renascence period. The decorations that adorn the hall are tasteful, falling right in line with the theme. There are tables and chairs everywhere, artfully placed so that one has a nice view regardless of where they sat. To top it all off, there is an orchestra playing on stage to the right of the podium.

"It does," Mon agrees, sighing deeply in annoyance as a dignitary waves to her. "But it looks as though our time together is over for now, Padmé. I will see you at the start of dinner, yes?"

I smile and nod, squeezing her hand before she turns and walks away.

I stand there for a moment, watching her go, before moving to the wall of the ballroom, near enough to the entrance to see everyone coming and going.

Time to get to work.

It has been nearly a week since my meeting with the Jedi and during that time, I have limited my appearances in public and in the Senate in an attempt to give myself some time to come up with a plan of action in regards to my Jedi and Sith problem.

The facts of it all are quite simple.

One: Anakin Skywalker is a Sith Lord.

Two: The Sith, according to the Jedi, are inherently evil, making the Jedi and the Sith natural enemies.

Three: The Jedi want me to come up with a list of possible Sith Lords.

Four: I don't have to come up with a list because I know who the Sith Lord is.

So… what to do?

It didn't take me very long to decide. I will continue to do what I've been doing; observing Skywalker and trying to break down his walls, to discern the man underneath. Because, for all their respect I used to have for them, the Jedi's attempts to force my cooperation have done them no favors, making me doubt everything about them, including their words on the Sith. I want to see for myself if Anakin Skywalker is truly as evil as the Jedi claim.

As a failsafe, if something happens to me—if I disappear or am killed—a letter exposing Skywalker as the Sith Lord will immediately be sent to Obi-Wan from several secure locations. This way, if Skywalker happens to discover what I've done and intercepts one of my messages, he'll still be found out: Even an evil Sith Lord wouldn't be able to catch them all. It allays my fear that Skywalker would get away with my death or with any evil plans he may have and leaves me free to pursue my own agenda.

Tonight is a prime opportunity to see Skywalker in action, away from the senate, mingling with people in a social setting. If he's anything like me, coming here will be torture and it'll be difficult for him to hide his annoyance all night. It's the perfect time to observe him, to see what shows when he slips up.

And Skywalker _will_ be here tonight, I can feel it.

But it could be a while yet before he arrives, so, I might as well relax and enjoy the music.

It's going to be a long night.

#*#*#*#*#

Obi-Wan is here.

I am in my little corner, watching the festivities when I spot him.

Obi-Wan is dressed in official Jedi regalia, probably here as there representative as a show of good faith to the public. He is talking to some senator or other when he looks up—senses me probably—and turns to look directly at me.

I take a sip of my drink as he promptly ends the conversation makes his way to me.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see him. I had asked him to be my escort initially, but after our little falling out, I quickly and coldly informed him that I no longer required his services.

I had received no reply to my caustic missive, but I know he got my real message: I don't want to be bothered with him; I want space and lots of it.

Apparently, though, he has decided to ignore my words.

He shouldn't have.

Now, he is standing in front of me, simply looking at me, his eyes studying my face.

I return his gaze, my lips pursed, my expression apathetic.

"How are you, Senator Amidala?" he asks formally, his eyes intent on me.

I shrug, unwilling to give him an inch. "I'm as well as expected," I tell him with mock sweetness, giving him a pointed look so he'll understand _exactly_ what my problem is.

"Padmé…" he begins earnestly, his hands clenched into fists, "you know that I had to do it."

"Really? You had to? That's the best you can do, Obi-Wan?" I ask sharply, eyebrows in my forehead. "Try again."

"I don't know what to say but 'I'm sorry'," he responds with a sigh. "I really am. But surely you understand how important this is?"

And as I open my mouth to deliver a scathing retort, I see _him_.

Anakin Skywalker.

He walks into the ballroom as though he owns it; struts in really.

I pause mid-breath, my eyes taking in the all black suit that hugs his body like a glove, surely capturing the attention of every woman in the room. The world slows down as he turns and our eyes meet, his blue eyes glowing like a brilliant lapis lazuli.

I release the breath I'm holding as he looks away, his profile glowing against the backlight, making him look every bit the blond adonis he is and I frown as my treacherous heart begins to speed up, feeling as though it's going to beat out of my chest.

"Obi-Wan," I begin seriously, dragging by gaze back to him, trying to pull myself together after Skywalker's entrance, "I know you think apologizing is going to make things right between us, but it's not. At least, not right now. You of all people know how bad Naboo was for me, how it changed me. It was why we bonded; I desperately needed someone to anchor me and you did that. For you to use that against me was the lowest thing you could have done. I need time to get over it and I need you to give that to me. Please."

I stare into his eyes, wanting him to understand. Because for all that has happened, Obi-Wan Kenobi is still important to me. I care about him and I can't just turn that off. In truth, I don't _want_ to; I just need _time_.

He gazes at me sadly, his eyes searching mine. Then he nods before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

I push away the feeling of regret that washes over me as he leaves. I will forgive him eventually, but our relationship has been irrevocably changed. I always knew who he'd pick if it ever came between me and the Jedi, I just never knew it'd hurt so much. It means I can't trust him and that truly saddens me.

I gaze at the spot he was for a moment longer before turning and searching for my prey, only to frown when I spot him.

Skywalker has only been here for ten minutes and already he is surrounded by a throng of women!

My jaw becomes hard as iron and my teeth clenches together the longer I stand there and watch hussy after hussy fawn over him.

What the hell is their problem? So what if he's gorgeous and fit and manly and intelligent! That doesn't mean that they should make fools out of themselves to get his attention!

Disgusted, I turn away and make my way to the restroom. Perhaps a moment away from the madness will do me good.

Moments later, I am in stall, relieving myself, gazing at the ceiling as I think.

Perhaps it's a good thing that he's drowning in women. I can't imagine it's too pleasant to be surrounded by so many harpies. If they're as intolerable as I suspect, I should be able to gleam his character from his interaction with them.

Should be interesting to watch.

I am about to exit the stall when someone else enters the restroom.

"…Him home tonight," a voice is saying enthusiastically, slyly, as soon as the door thumps shut behind her.

"…Only if you can get him away from me," another voice responds smugly, breathlessly. "Senator Skywalker is the most eligible bachelor in the Senate," her voice lowers to a naughty whisper. "And Marili told me that he was the best fuck she'd ever had in her life!"

My eyes widen and my mouth drops open in outrage at their words.

But they continue speaking, oblivious to my presence.

"I want him so bad I can taste it," Slut One says passionately, her voice glazed with lust. "I'm going to outdo all those other bitches. It'll be easy and then he'll take me home tonight."

"No, I think he'll take us _both_ home tonight," Slut Two answers with a sultry laugh. "I wonder if he's into that…?"

"Well, after a little demonstration, he _will_ be," Slut One responds with a wicked laugh, Slut Two joining in after a second.

At that point, I've had more than enough.

I push the door open hard, making it smack loudly against the door next to mine.

They freeze as they see me, fear filling their face like a glass filling with water.

They know who I am, of course, and it's scaring them shitless.

I pause for a moment allowing them to absorb my presence, before calmly moving to the sink to wash my hands, refraining from acknowledging their presence in the slightest.

Despite all the negatives to being so notorious, there are benefits as well and one of them is the ability to silence the fuckers of this world when I enter a room. These women know their reputations, their careers are in my hands. They also know that begging and bribery won't work, so they're probably standing there hoping that I'm just a figment of their imagination.

I'm not.

I eye myself in the mirror critically and dry my hands before turning to face them, aware that they have not moved since I exited my stall.

But I say nothing, make no attempt to put them out of their misery, merely give them a very mean smirk before turning and leaving.

Let them chew on that!

I quickly move back to my spot at the wall, fuming.

I'm angry and I don't understand why. Skywalker doesn't belong to me! That damn man-whore can can fuck whoever he wants!

I _don't_ care.

This whole operation is business; I'm trying to see if he's an evil bastard, not how many senators he can go through. What he does in his free time is not my problem and I refuse to dwell on it any longer.

Settling into position, I steel myself as I observe him for little while longer.

But then, when it is time to eat and when the donation portion of the event begins, I refuse to spare Anakin Skywalker another glance.

#*#*#*#*#

"Looking for someone?"

My heart jumps with an emotion I refuse to name as I hear that voice, and I take a slow, deep breath as I turn around to face him.

"Senator Skywalker," I say formally, eyes narrowing as I take in his form.

I am standing alone at the back of the ballroom, near the the veranda, enjoying the music as the event dies down. People are leaving for their homes, satisfied with that their civic duty' is fulfilled for another year and that they are now able to happily flaunt their wealth for the rest of the year. I chose to remain after seeing Mon off because I'm not quite ready to face my lonely flat yet. I want to stay for a moment longer and allow the music to sweep me away.

I had not seen nor sought Skywalker out since I observed him earlier, knowing I'd find nothing here tonight. If Skywalker has been acting all this time, then the man is a professional because he's had perfect manners all evening. Well… as much as one could have when he was flirting with everyone that had a vagina.

Bastard.

"So, you _were_ looking for me," he says slyly, grinning. "Knew it."

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" I reply scornfully, glaring at him.

"I would," he agrees with a nod, "you know, seeing as you've been glaring daggers at me all evening."

I make a sound of annoyance under my breath, unsurprised that he'd notice. "As if I'd spare one of my daggers for _you_!"

"They always seem to be the sharpest when I was with a woman," he continues seriously, as though I had said nothing, his eyes intent on me, "jealous?"

I turn away from him, a sudden weariness weighing me down like a anchor on a ship. I can't play this game tonight… I just _can't_.

"What do you want, Skywalker," I ask softly. "I know you enjoy our verbal sparring but I'm not up to it tonight, so please, just go away."

He pauses for a moment, probably surprised that I've shown such vulnerability. Well, he better not get used to it; he's caught me in an extremely rare moment of weakness.

Skywalker sidles up next to me, shaking his head. "Why would I do that when I've gone through through so much trouble to see you tonight?" he asks.

My eyebrow rises. "You came here to see me? That's not how it looked from where I was standing."

He shrugs, "I had to keep up appearances, didn't I?"

"Well, you did a fine job," I respond hotly, turning back to face him, "I was definitely convinced. So convinced, in fact, that I'm surprised you're still here. There were two women in the restroom who seemed intent on getting you out of here. They'd heard of your fucking skills and thought they should take you for a ride."

His eyebrows shoot into his forehead, his lips forming a slow, surprised smile. "Why, Amidala! Such a potty mouth. What would your mother say?"

"I think she'd be more worried about the company I was keeping," I retort, folding my arms. "But seriously, Skywalker. Why are you here?"

He shakes his golden head again, his blue eyes serious as he moves yet closer. "I'm here for you," he responds simply. "You've been quite scarce at the Senate so I came thinking you'd be here. I'm glad I was right."

"Well, I'm here, so what do you want?" I ask, eyes narrowing, trying ignore the effect his words had on my body. I don't want him to affect me this way, I _don't_! I shouldn't feel this way now that I know what he is. Force, why can't I control my heart?

"A dance," he says slyly, grinning at me as the orchestra begins a lovely, flowing waltz. "A dance is what I want."

"Sorry," I reply immediately, extending my hand to hold him off. "I don't dance."

"Scared?" he taunts.

"No…" I respond softly, honestly, "It's just one of those private things I don't do in front of others."

He stares at me for a moment, nodding slowly. "Very well."

Grabbing my arm, he begins pulls me out of the ballroom and onto the veranda, allowing the heavy curtain to close once we're outside.

"Now," he says, lifting one hand on my waist and raising the other, "you have no excuse."

I look at him for a long moment, amazed at his gall, wondering if I should tear him down. I shouldn't do this; I shouldn't dance with him. Dancing is intimate and unwise and _dangerous_…

But… I _want_ to…

I want to dance with him.

I nod slowly, my hand sliding slowly into his. He pulls me close until there is no space between our bodies. This is not the way to waltz, but I don't care. This isn't about the dance, it's about being close to him.

I close my eyes for a moment, reveling in the feel of his body against mine and when I open them again, I am flying.

And as the music filters through the curtain of the veranda, I allow myself to let go.

I stare at him, so intensely aware of who he is that it's painful.

…His eyes are so blue… like the spring waters near my family's lake house on Naboo.

…And his scent… it's unlike any other… like spices and herbs and man…

…And his nearness… it overwhelms me, but I don't want to let him go.

For this moment, this special moment, I will be selfish and enjoy every second that I'm in his arms because it's feels _amazing_ to be held.

It's incredible, being swept around and around, having no control, allowing someone else to lead.

It's like magic to be in his care, if only for this short time.

It's indescribable to know that despite all the wiles, all the beauty of the women who pursued him tonight, he is _here_.

With me.

It's then that's when I know, I _know_ that I am ensnared in the destiny, the fate of this man.

Because surely… surely the way he is making me feel will never fade; it will remain with me forever.

But he is a Sith Lord and despite all of my hope to the contrary; I know that it is true. Yet my heart refuses to accept that he is a monster, that he isn't all that he has shown me. It's why I fight to ignore my heart and to allow my head to rule. I know the facts, I know who he is and that _has_ to mean something to me.

In the end, I hope that this knowledge will help me to do what needs to be done, because this man… this man…

I could spend my life with him.

I am barely cognizant of the fact that we have stopped dancing.

I press myself closely to him, my head buried against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

I feel… safe and special and… _not alone_.

Suddenly, I pull away from him, feeling as though my world is caving in.

I need to leave. I need there to be space between us, I need to_ breathe_.

And as he looks down at me, his cerulean eyes intense and beautiful, I know he sees it; my weakness, my growing need to be around him, to be near him. I almost expect him to comment on it, use it to tear me down… to build himself up.

But he does none of those things.

He cups my cheek, lowering his head until his words are a whisper against my lips.

"Goodnight, Amidala," he says softly, simply.

I close my eyes, inhaling him and when I open them again, where there was once a man, now there is nothing.

End of Chapter 16: Please review.

**Chapter 17: A Little Slice of Normal:** Enjoying a relaxing day.


	17. A Little Slice of Normal

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 17: A Little Slice of Normal**

**By WrittinInStone**

**_P_**_admé _**_A_**_midala_

I purse my lips as I glance over my report, absently adjusting my reading glasses on my nose.

It's taken nearly two weeks to compile a list of potential Sith Lords for the Jedi, much longer than I expected. Usually, all I would have had to do to make such a list would be to glance at the suspects on my Karma-cide list and write down any of the slime that fit the bill. But I've been so busy dealing with the Order and Skywalker, as well as preparing for the Senate Peace Talks, that I haven't engaged in any Karma-cide activities for quite some time.

And that _isn't_ good because, after some investigation, it's become clear that several senators have taken advantage of my absence.

I frown as I read the words on my datapad.

There are eight senators who I will definitely have to keep an eye on, one of which surprises me. Her name is Fema Baab and she's a female Human senator of the Bajic Sector. Senator Baab always seemed to display such a genuine concern for her constituents, indeed, with all those around her that it's hard to believe she would be embezzling from her own people.

It bothers me.

I've been in contact with her quite a bit, have even worked with her on several food provision projects, yet I didn't notice _anything _untoward about her even though I can usually spot a fake a mile away. The fact that she has apparently slipped past my sensors is more than a little disconcerting. If I were fair to myself, I would admit that I'm not superhuman, that I can overlook things just like any other sentient.

But I can't say that; I _won't_.

It's true that no one assigned this job to me, that it's something I've taken on of my own free will, but that doesn't make it any less important, any less _valuable_. The denizens of the Republic are benefiting from what I've done and the popularity of the Senate body has skyrocketed since my ventures began and it's all because they now have senators who are much too frightened to do anything other than look out for the best interest of their people.

My work is critical and I must remember that: I _cannot_ allow myself to let my Karma-cide activities go. I have to continue them, if not for myself, than for every citizen that it helps.

I suppose I have the Jedi to thank for this fortification of my ideals. Who knows how long it would have taken me to get back to my Karma-cide activities if I had not had to investigate for the Order.

Sitting the report aside, I grab my personal datapad to take notes. I know doing so is old-fashioned, but I prefer it as it allows me to better remember the facts that I research. This simple exercise has been my saving grace many a times, allowing me to recall things I otherwise would not have with just a simple reading.

I become so engrossed in my work that it startles me when I hear the small buzzer going off through my apartment signaling someone's presence at my door.

Rising from my work area, my eyebrow furrow in suspicion. Now, who could that be?

I only have a few friends: Mon Mothma, Bail Organa and Obi-Wan Kenobi, but none of them would show up unannounced, especially Obi-Wan as he's preparing to leave on a mission. So, once again, who could it be?

It wouldn't be a messenger; any package or letter that I receive goes through a special process to make sure it is free from harmful substances and delivered through a chute in my study. It can't be a salesperson, such people are not allowed entrance in 500 Republica. Maybe… an assassin?

It's unlikely: Few people know where I live. Yet… I can't totally disregard the possibility. Every option must be taken into account.

Jumping nimbly from the coach, I take of my reading glasses and gather my papers together, putting them safely in my office. Then I dart to my room and grab my blaster before going to the door and pressing a button to pull up a screen of who's standing outside my door.

Who I see completely and totally stumps me.

I take a deep breath and turn my gaze to the ceiling, counting to ten.

Teeth clenching, I open the door, blaster still in hand.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" I snarl at him.

_Him_ is Anakin Skywalker, stalker extraordinaire.

A blonde eyebrow rises as he takes in the blaster in my hand.

"Do you always answer the door armed like that?" he asks, his blue eyes shining with amusement.

"Only when the company is unwelcome," I shoot back with acid sweetness, "and you didn't answer my question. What are you _doing_ here?"

"Well, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by," he responds cheerfully, a grin on his face, "and by 'in the neighbor', I mean that I walked from my place to yours after hacking 500 Republica's system to find out which apartment was yours."

I pause for moment to take a deep breath, my jaw aching from how hard I'm gritting my teeth. My having a thing for Skywalker does _not_ mean he can hack 500 Republica's mainframe and waltz to my apartment anytime he likes! Besides, I have not forgotten who and what he is and I am _not_ going to let such a dangerous individual into my sanctuary.

I stare at him for a moment longer before rudely pressing the button to close the door in his face, quite done with this conversation.

Smirking in satisfaction, I turn to walk away, sitting my blaster on the counter, only to pause upon hearing beeps and click at my door. What is he doing…?

Seconds later, my door opens and Skywalker strolls inside.

Well, so much for not letting such a dangerous individual into my sanctuary.

I gape at him for a second, staring at he walks past me to sit down on my coach, opposite where my work station was, sitting his bag next to him.

Did he just hack through my security system…?

"Yes I did," he answers my unspoken question with a grin, "and they should really update the security here. It's child's play."

"How did you do that?" I demand coldly, folding my arms across my chest, "I think you well know that my security is the finest offered on Coruscant. And coming into my apartment without permission is breaking in and entering, otherwise known as a _crime_."

"How I got in is my little secret," he responds loftily, winking at me. "And you should call the Coruscant Security Force about the breaking and entering thing if you want," he continues with a shrug, "only you won't because they'll list your address in the report—which is public—and then everyone'll know where you live."

"Why are you here," I ask sharply, ignoring him, "I think I've made it clear that I don't want you here. Do you get your rocks off by harassing people who don't want you?"

He pauses and turns to look at me.

"Now, Amidala," he says softly, a small smirk stretching his mouth, "I think we both know that isn't true."

I glare at him as I feel a flush beginning to rise up my neck.

"If you think that you can do whatever you want to because of these unwanted feelings I have for you, then you're wrong," I shoot back crossly, not even bothering to deny the truth in his words.

"So you admit you have feelings for me," he says smugly, settling into the coach as he gloats.

"I don't see why we should beat around the bush," I return severely, glaring at him, "I'm not that type of woman. And if you think I won't call the Coruscant Security Force because I'm afraid my address'll be known, you're sadly mistaken. Now, _why_. Are. You. _Here_?"

He gazes at me for a moment before sighing.

"When we went on our first date," he began.

"_Outing_…" I interrupt stubbornly, glaring at him.

"Date," he repeats with equal stubbornness, continuing as though I hadn't said a word, "we discussed some of the things you liked to do and I started thinking—."

"A dangerous thing," I retort.

"—That instead of just sitting around in my apartment by myself all day," he says, once again ignoring me, "I could come over here and share the joys of your hobbies with you."

I frown, cocking my head at him in surprise.

That was not quite what I expected. To be honest, I thought he was here to proposition me for sex.

"Oh, and we can fuck as well," he adds, throwing me a lecherous smile, "but, you know, only if you want to."

I shake my head in exasperation and rolling my eyes. And there it is, the sex proposition.

Rubbing my chin, I contemplate him for a moment. I really shouldn't indulge him in this, I should kick him out of my apartment, reaffirming the boundaries between us, but this could be a good opportunity to learn a bit more about him.

Not only that, his seemingly continuous desire for my company is more than a little flattering. After all, why would he deliberately continue to seek me out if he didn't feel _something_ for me? True Sith Lords are incapable of any real, benign emotions, aren't they? So there _must_ be some good in him, even if only a little. Because there are other ways he could get my attention, ways that have nothing to do with romance.

In that moment, it hits me that Anakin Skywalker is in my apartment! He's not talking to me over the phone, or dancing with me at a gala event, he's in my _sanctuary_ and we're_ alone_. It's the first time we've been alone in such a secluded area without any fear of interruption. It suddenly makes everything intimate… and _real_.

I _really_ need to set some boundaries.

"Well, that's a definite 'hell no' to the sex," I say finally, sitting across from him, "but I guess I can share one of my hobbies with you."

"Fantastic!" Skywalker responds with enthusiasm, jumping from the coach. "So what are we going to do? Stalk someone for a Karma-cide blog entry? Participate in a high speed chase? Go undercover in the lower levels?"

I throw him an amused look of exasperation, "I have something much less dangerous in mind. We're going to watch a movie."

He stares at me, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline, his enthusiasm fading as fast as a light wind.

"You're not serious," he says flatly, disbelief heavy in his voice.

"I am," I respond with a laugh, more sure than ever that this is _exactly_ what I want us to do. Now his ass'll think twice before for hacking his way into my apartment.

"That doesn't sound exciting at all," he returns, a ferocious frown on his face. "Our time together usually contains more _thrilling_ activities_._"

"Then this should be good for you," I respond confidently, with a nod. "One thing you need to realize, Skywalker, is that neither relationships nor life is exciting every second of every day. It's about stability and consistency and the ability to do normal things. Life is not always about the extraordinary, actually, _most_ times it's not. Get used to doing everyday things, don't shun it. And who knows; you might actually like it."

Skywalker stares at me with narrowed eyes and I can almost see the clogs in his head turning as he ponders my words.

"Fine," he says finally with a resigned sigh, running a hand through his blond locks, "a completely _normal_ activity like watching a movie it is. So… where is your movie collection?"

"Movie collection?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. "What makes you think I have a movie collection?"

He rolls his eyes. "Amidala, you spend all of your free time watching 'vids or reading. You're a geek wrapped up in a beautiful package. So, I have no choice but to conclude that you have a huge movie collection stashed someone in this apartment that contains more 'vids than any one person can possibly see in their lifetime."

I pause, staring at him.

Anakin Skywalker called me beautiful. It's the first time he's ever _actually_ said it.

I frown at him, cursing my estrogen-controlled heart.

I shouldn't be so affected that he thinks I'm attractive, but there it is. I am and I've quite given up on castigating myself for gaining so much pride from an evil Dark Lord's compliment. As such, I have reluctantly accepted that Skywalker calling me beautiful makes very unwelcome things happen to my body. The best I can do at this point is ignore my body's betrayal.

It's much easier said than done, of course.

I stare at him for a moment longer before capitulating, walking toward the bare wall next to my huge sixty inch holoplayer.

"Okay, you're right, but if you tell anyone about my collection…" I allow the threat to hang in the air.

"I know, you'll do horrible things to me," he finishes, moving beside me. "Now, let's see it." Skywalker stares at the wall, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

Once again rolling my eyes in exasperation, I step on the concealed button on the floor in front of the wall, watching Skywalker's reaction as it pulls back to reveal my wonderful, amazing, _incredible_ movie collection.

He blinks widely as it opens and he beholds the cinematic glory.

The room is nearly the same size of my living room and is covered from wall to wall in films. The white shelves that the movies sit on give it a clean, pristine look, just the way I like it.

My collection is something I'm quite proud of. I have Corellian films, Bothan works, Sullustan 'vids, Hut 'vid dramas and much much more.

I have it _all_.

"By the Force," he breathes, his eyebrows shooting up. "This is… impressive. At least now I know where all your credits go."

I hit him in the arm as I move inside, conscious of him moving behind me.

"I have just the movies I want us to see," I say, making a beeline for the correct shelve. "If you don't like these films, we can't be friends or even acquaintances."

"Well then," he says, bending down to peruse some of the movies on the bottom shelves, "I can already tell you that I'll love them."

"You can't say that," I say, shaking my head and throwing him a glare, "you have to genuinely like it. And don't bother trying to fool me. I'll know if you really love it or not."

Skywalker simply throws me a sly grin before turning back to the 'vids.

I grab the movies I went in for and turn to him. "Okay, Skywalker, you have officially gone where no man has gone before, but your time in paradise is over."

An eyebrow rises, "No other man has been here, huh? Good to know."

I glare at him as I grab his arm and pull him out of my movie collection room.

"This movie is pretty long, so we should get started," I tell him as the door closes behind us.

Suddenly, I turn to him, needing to make something clear, "Oh and by the way, if you ever come into my apartment without permission again, I will shoot you on sight. Are we clear?" I tell him, my eyes hard and unyielding.

He nods, his eyes serious, "Yes ma'am."

I glare at him for a second longer before heading to the kitchen.

"No movie time can ever truly be right without snacks," I announce, re-entering the living room carrying a basket full of goodies. "And if we're going to do this, we're going to do it right!"

He laughs, "Okay, this should be great then."

I nod as I put the 'vid in the player and sit a good distance away from him on the same coach.

"I don't think I've ever heard of this movie," he says as opening credits begin to play. "What's it about?"

"I usually don't like telling people the movie, but I guess I can do it without giving anything away," I concede, tearing my eyes away from the 'vid. "It's called The Master of the Circlets and it's based off a book trilogy with each book having its own movie. We're watching the first one called the Company of the Circlet. It's about a group of good guys trying to defeat a whole lot of bad guys, especially the head bad guy who's risen in the East. The head bad guys moves in the shadows for a long time before coming forward and making his move. But by this time, his plans have fallen into line and he has procured an army that is five times larger than that of the good side. Yet despite the hardships that the good side face, despite the emotional, physical and mental challenges, they still defeat the bad guys."

I watch his face closely for any reaction.

He stares at the screen, his face blank.

"This should be interesting, then," he responds evenly, his eyes remaining on the 'vid.

I smile, "Yes, it should be."

We are silent for the rest of the film.

#*#*#*#*#

"Well… that _was_ interesting."

"No," I return, glaring at him, "that was _awesome_."

It's been about six hours and we've watched both The Company of the Circlet and The Dual Spires. It delighted me to no end that after watching the first movie, Skywalker immediately wanted to watch the second. Unfortunately, it's too late to watch the third movie, The Restoration of the King, yet I remain satisfied.

I smile, more at ease and relaxed than I have been in a long time. I really love these movie and watching it always puts me in a feel-good mood.

Stretching, I glance at Skywalker as he does the same.

It's the first time that I've ever watched these with someone else as most of my loved ones groan at watching a movie so long, but I have to say, I liked the company; it changed the whole experience. The irony of who I'm watching it with doesn't escape me. Of course it would be me that would watch a movie about good and evil with an evil guy.

"So… what do you think?" I ask finally, turning to him, resting my elbow on the back of the chair and my face on my fist.

"They're good movies," he admits reluctantly, and I can tell how painful the admission is for him—which is _highly_ amusing, "but implausible in reality. By all rights, the bad guy, Varuman, should have won. The odds were in his favor and the _good guys_…" he says the words like they're poisonous, "were severely outmatched."

"But a winner that does not always make," I respond softly, tilting my head at him. "Although it helps, it takes more than numbers to win a battle. Good naturally wins over bad; that's the way of the Galaxy, you know, maybe even the way of the Force. Bad might win here and there, it might even think its won the war, but good can never truly be stamped out; it'll always prevail in the end. It probably won't happen the way it did in the Company of the Circlet or the Dual Spires, but in the end, as long as people live, the potential for good exists and it will destroy evil every time."

He is silent, his face contemplative as he stares at the now dark 'vid screen.

"But that's just my opinion," I continue cheerfully, breaking the long silence, throwing him an artful smile. "You, of course, have your own and if experience is anything to go by, it's completely different from what I think."

Finally, he turns and looks at me and there is a strange gleam in his eye.

"Amidala," he says suddenly, his tone dangerous, "is there any particular reason you picked these movies?"

I frown at him, tensing slightly.

"Whatever do you mean?" I ask with mock coyness.

"You picked a movie about good and evil and though many movies are about such, this one has certain _parallels_…" his eyes are intent on me and I shift as I see a flicker of gold in his eyes.

It is then that I remember who it is I'm entertaining. This is Anakin Skywalker, resident Sith Lord and a very, _very_ dangerous man. Perhaps I was a bit hasty to show these particular movies, to make him suspicious, because even with the training I've had, I'm not sure I'm any match against someone who can use the Force.

But that doesn't mean I will allow myself to be intimidated by him,_ especially_ in my own home.

"Skywalker," I begin, rolling my eyes, "any movie in my collection could be said to have parallels to real life in one way or another. If these movies fit some kind of situation you're going through, I wouldn't be surprised."

He makes a small, unconvinced sound under his breath, his gaze narrowed on me before nodding, "I suppose you're right," he murmurs.

"Nice to know you're finally catching on," I reply jauntily, rising from my seat. "Soon, you're realize that I'm _always_ right. But… as much fun as this has been, it's late. You should really get going."

He turns the full force of his blue gaze on me.

"What? You want me to leave so soon?" he asks easily, a small smile stretching his lips. "We haven't even fooled around yet."

"Of course, you're operating under the assumption that I would have let you touch me," I respond, rolling my eyes—which I've been doing a lot tonight, "not that I would've."

His smile widens as he rises from the coach as well. "And you're assuming I wouldn't have convinced you otherwise."

I ignore the leap my heart takes at his words. "You're really quite confident in your abilities, aren't you?" I ask, walking him to the door.

"I've learned that I can be," he says knowingly, nodding. "My abilities are legendary as you know."

"Don't remind me," I mutter, glaring at him.

"Jealous?" he taunts.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" I respond with acid sweetness.

He merely smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Soo…" I say, looking up at him and folding my arms, "this was fun. Next time I may actually consider extending you a legitimate invitation."

Skywalker laughs softly. "That would be good."

We stare at each other for a moment and I blink as the tension rises. Force, why does this all of a sudden feel like a date? It shouldn't because it _isn't_.

"I should be going," he says quietly, staring into my eyes.

"Yes," I agree softly, unable to tear my gaze away from his.

Silence reigns for a moment longer before he tilts his head, an unreadable emotion flashing across his face.

He moves closer, invading my space, but I don't move away. I blink as my body instantly recognizes his distinct scent, the heat of his body; I should not be so in tune with him, I don't _want_ to be so in tune with him.

"Just…" he murmurs softly, his eyes still on me, "…Just hold still."

He head bends down to mine and for a second, I think he's going to kiss me. Only he slowly bypasses my mouth and gently rests his nose against the scope of my neck.

Butterflies begin fluttering wildly in my stomach and my body trembles at the feel of his skin against mine. Why does this feel so much more intimate than a kiss? Why does this feel so… _right_?

It feels like he cares… like… he just wants to _be_ with me.

For a minute, I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of it all, just as I did at the gala. Is this what it feels to have a lover? To have someone who cares about you? To have a mate? Someone to share your life with?

It's beautiful and amazing and terrifying, and not just because it's Skywalker who's inciting these feelings.

How do people fall in love when they have to wade through such emotions, when they give another person such power over them?

It's dangerous and I know it, but I still don't want it to end.

But it has to.

It has to.

"It's late," I say, my throat dry as he continues to nuzzle my neck softly, "you should go."

His nose rests in the juncture of my neck for a moment longer before he pulls away.

"You cannot run from me forever, Amidala," he says gently, seriously, his blue eyes gleaming.

"I know," I respond quietly, holding his gaze, "but when I give in, it'll be on _my_ terms, not yours."

An eyebrow rises at my statement and I can tell that I've amused him. He's not used to dealing with someone like me, someone so bold and direct. Well, he'd better get used to it; I don't plan on changing.

"Goodnight, Skywalker," I say forcefully, with conviction.

He gazes at me a moment longer, his eyes running over my face before he nods, moving over the threshold and out of my apartment. "Goodnight, Amidala."

This time, when I close the door and walk away, it remains shut.

I turn off everything in the living area and go to my bedroom.

It so clear that Skywalker thinks he can control me that it's laughable. What he doesn't realize is that our definitions of "giving in" are quite different. When I do so, it'll be because he would have admitted that he _wants_ me, that he _needs_ me, that he doesn't want to be without me.

This Sith Lord is going to adore me; he'll want to lay the world, no, the whole _Galaxy_ at my feet.

Then and only then will I allow myself to be his lover.

I realize that my own feelings will be a casualty in this war and I suspect that the only reason I'm not yet in love with him is because I know that the face he's showing me now is not his true one. I really wish I could say that it would be easier to resist Skywalker in all his evil glory, if I saw his true visage, but something tell me that this wouldn't be true.

The reason for that is simple; Skywalker doesn't fit the proverbial evil maniac mold. He is a mix of darkness and light, that I can see quite clearly.

Yet, even if I cannot destroy his darkness—which I am pretty sure I cannot—perhaps I can help his light shine; maybe I can be the catalyst that turns a monster into a man, or at least, put the monster on a leash.

It's good enough for me; _more_ than good enough for me.

It would mean that the Jedi are wrong, or that Skywalker is special.

It would mean that I could have him, that the possibility of having him in my life would be r_eal_.

Still, I won't surrender to him, not now, at least, although I will give him a push to reveal himself to me. This cold war between the two of us has worn on my patience and the time for action has come.

Tomorrow… tomorrow I will confront him. And, more than anything, his reaction to my ploy will tell me how he really feels about me.

Then, I'll truly see if there is any light in the darkness.

End of Chapter 17: Please review!

**Chapter 18: Endgame****:** The terms of the game.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You have no idea how much your comments and encouragement mean to me. Not only that, you are contributing to my goal of reaching 1,000 reviews. So, thank you sooo, sooo very much for your regard:

Zealot of Reading, Padawan Sydney Bristow, tmharris2, GalaxyPink, ambre, angie, Glee Plane, Miss-Sarah-Kathryn-K, ForeverFireandIce, Rookwork, AAA, Deception-silverstreak, Vanessa85, Jokehead, Somebodyrandom, ambre, apple, Imperial warlord, sharp52092, GLCW2, JourneyRocks 13, Anakin-Jason-Skywalker-Kenobi, ForceFreakLeia13, Anjie, The Last Smith, dragonball256, Diz, Loteva, Swimhead1, narxxnes, sodorland, JACarter, Grz, Slices, Freefan1412, PlacateDrive, Bam-it'-me, Young at Heart21 and 3 Guests.

Once again, thank you all.


	18. Endgame

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 18: Endgame**

**By WrittinInStone**

_**D**__arth __**V**__ader_

It is in the dark of my living area at 500 Republica that I sip on a Corellian brandy and I find it interesting that it is still my favorite beverage after all these years.

Many things have changed since I enjoyed that first taste so long ago after killing Sidious, myself being the main transformation, yet something so simple as a drink has remained the same.

The thought is an intriguing one.

Rising, I move to the veranda, my black cloak billowing around me, my bare chest open to the night air. I take a deep breath and gaze on the city below, my eyes unseeing.

It makes me wonder what other things will remain the same in this Galaxy with the advent of my reign.

_My reign_.

The thought of it, the very words, make my lip curl.

I have long pondered exactly what I wanted from my life, if following Sidious' plans were what was best for me. At no point do I want to be like that _poodoo_, but I cannot deny that the thought of being Emperor of the Galaxy is quite appealing. It is why, in the end, I did choose to follow his carefully laid plans. There have been modifications, of course; it is easier for me to accept following Sidious' plan knowing that I have changed the playbook, so to speak, in key places to fit my own special brand of Sith-ness.

But what to do after I gain control? What will my policies be, how will I run the galaxy? The thought of it has plagued my mind of late and only now have I sat down to ponder the 'how' of it all. Should I allow democracy to remain, or should I rule with the iron fist of a dictator?

To allow democracy to continue would both strengthen and weaken my transition to power. An Emperor that allows the various systems to vote and have a say in the decisions that affect their lives would be accepted easier. But such a ruler would be bound by the governing democratic body, in this case, the Senate. I could overrule them at any time, being Emperor, but such an action would not be looked upon favorably, indeed, it may even incite rebellion for I would have essentially implied that their desires meant nothing and that it was only my word, my desires, that mattered.

Such a sentiment would not be at all untrue.

But as a dictator, the facade of caring would not exist; it would be clear to all that I was in charge; that my word was law and not to be taken lightly. But the move to power as a dictator would be that much more difficult. Yet once I seized control and destroyed the more… _outspoken_ opposition, everyone would know that it was only my wishes that mattered.

Unbidden, the vision of a mouthy, dark-haired woman materializes before my eyes before I push it aside in annoyance.

Whatever I choose, I will rule as I see fit. It does not matter whether I allow democracy to continue or not; I will shape the Galaxy to my liking and those who stand in my way, whether now as a Senator or later when I become Emperor, will be destroyed.

One new development that I do not appreciate is how Senator Amidala plagues my thoughts. At first, it had been in passing. I'd recall a remark that she said while in a meeting at the Senate, or one of her particularly well-worded insults that forced me to bury a very reluctant smile. But now, I find myself constantly pushing her out of my thoughts, of having to force myself to concentrate on the task at hand and not the memory of her soft, succulent lips.

And then the activities of yesterday, the "normal" day we spent together, only made it worse.

It's… _disturbing_.

I cannot afford to be distracted by anything and especially not by _Senator Amidala_.

I do not understand these feelings or why I cannot get her out of my mind, and I _do not_ like it. I must control whatever this is, for now is a very important time for me. The meeting for the delegation is only a few days away and although I am more than prepared, I cannot be overconfident nor unfocused; therein lies failure.

And I do _not_ fail.

I still, as my ears detect a nearly imperceptible sound of swaying fabric.

I do not move, do not flinch as a dark figure silently steps from the shadows.

"Darth Maul," I say coldly after a long moment, sparing him nary a glance, "You'd better have an excellent reason for coming to this place."

It had been my express order never to contact me here… that he would do so against my command ignites my anger like gas on a flame.

"I do, milord," he responds immediately, submissively, "I have just received reports from our spies that Senator Amidala had a late night meeting with the Jedi several weeks ago."

A late night meeting with the Jedi?

Curious.

"And you're just now informing me of this fact… why?" I ask quietly, turning around to face him, allowing him to sense my growing ire.

"I destroyed the initial spy who gathered the information," he answered, his yellow, red-rimmed eyes staring at me. "This information was passed on by another."

I am silent, processing his words. "Did you come over here merely to inform me about Amidala's nighttime activities?"

"No, milord," he responds quietly, tilting his head, "I have received reports that the clone army is nearly complete. The 'leak' leading the Jedi to Kamino is prepared and awaits your discretion."

I nod, pleased by this information. Everything is proceeding as I have planned.

"You have done well, Maul," I say finally, after a moment, idly moving the brandy in my glass around in gentle circles.

I survey him for a moment, taking in his tattoos, his strong visage, his intense Force signature that rolls off of him in waves when he is in my presence. It is strange. He has been by my side for many years now and I don't know one thing about him. Not what he likes to eat, not what he likes to do. He has always been nothing by my henchman, my lackey, nothing more.

The only thing that binds Maul to me is the fact that I saved his life so many years ago, and that, on a whim.

Suddenly, this state of lack is quite unacceptable to me.

I should know who it is that has been so faithful to me, who has made my plans to dominate the galaxy so achievable. It would be an unusual thing to do: Sith Lords, as a whole, are a selfish and self-centered lot who care about no one and nothing but themselves and their plans. But I have never cared about the actions of other Sith and I will not start now.

"In two day's time, we will meet at a location of your choosing and we will bond," I say abruptly, taking a sip of my brandy.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes narrowing and then widening as he processes my random change in subject.

"Bond, Master?" Maul stutters in confusion.

I smirk. It's the first time I've ever seen any expression on his face besides pure menace.

"Yes," I reply with conviction, his reaction solidifying my spontaneous decision, "bond. You will tell me everything about yourself that I wish to know. Is that understood?"

For the first time that I remember, he does not respond immediately. He simply gazes at me intently… must like he did the first day we met. Then, something totally unexpected happens.

He smiles, or at least, gives a facsimile of one. It's more like a stretch of the mouth, showing a row of pearly, slightly sharp teeth.

"As you wish, my lord."

"Very good," I say dismissively, waving him away, "you may go."

"There is one more thing, my Master," Maul speaks quickly as I begin to move away, "Our spies have indicated that Senator Amidala is to meet with the Jedi again soon. Would you like me to take care of it?"

I frown.

Let Maul take care of it? I _should_ allow him to see to it, to let him handle it in the only way he knows how; by destroying everything and everyone connected to the situation and then making it all disappear.

But what I _should_ do and what I _choose_ to do, is, of course, totally different.

Which is completely my prerogative.

"No," I respond finally, taking another sip of my brandy, "I will take care of her myself."

Taking my words as the dismissal that it is, he turns to leave.

"Oh, and Maul," I say before he can sweep out, my voice as hard as flint, "if you ever come here again without my express permission, I will make you suffer."

He pauses for a moment and nods. Then, he is gone.

#*#*#*#*#

As a rule, Sith Lords do not stalk.

The word itself is derogatory, denoting a person who has descended into obsession, who has allowed the desire for a person or object to cloud his judgment to the point of mental deficiency, to madness.

I am not a stalker.

Pausing in the shadows, my eyes narrow as Amidala pulls her mahogany hood over her head and continues through the bustling crowd. After a moment, I too don my hood and move after her, ignoring the mother walking past with her small child and a nearby merchant shouting at passing patrons as he attempts to peddle his wares.

Amidala is in the open-air marketplace today, a fact that I curse. It is bustling and lively; a veritable melting pelting pot of species across the Republic. Since I've been here, I've seen Humans—of course—a Chiss, Twi'leks, Arcona, Mon Calamaris, Biths and even a Rattataki.

The sheer amount of merchandise available is distasteful. The Sith reject materialism, for such is a weakness that can spell an early death. Yet here, clothing and handmade keepsakes made of orange, purple, yellow and green thread hang here and there, adorning the space in a brilliant array of color. Technological gadgets hang from racks, blinking and making noise, beckoning customers with the promise of convenience.

These things mean nothing to me and I remain focused on the bent head moving surreptitiously toward the more… risque section of the marketplace.

No, I do not stalk; I do something quite different. Every decision I make is well thought out, every move, a necessary step in my goal of becoming Emperor of the known Galaxy.

So, when I donned my black robes— after waking up early this morning to prepare for the day—and strolled to Amidala's apartment to wait for her to come out of her apartment while hiding in a nearby alcove, I was not stalking her.

It was _necessary_ that I follow her to each and every one of her destinations. It was _necessary_ that I watch her eat, observe how her nose crinkled in the middle while she read the morning holopad.

I was not stalking her.

Darth Vader is not a stalker.

My reason for following Senator Amidala is simple: She is the greatest threat to my ambitions, even more so than the Jedi and I need to know what she knows. Watching her affords me the opportunity to note her friends, acquaintances and contacts: She is my enemy and there is nothing that she does that is beneath my notice.

That's the only reason I am deigning to follow her myself.

The only reason at all.

Why I choose to handle Amidala myself isn't for any foolish reason like a simple desire to see her or because I am curious about her habits, or because I am interested in her. Such would be utterly absurd.

I am simply being careful. Amidala must be handled with care; she cannot know she is being followed for such would incite a multitude of events, none of which would be good. Rather, she needs to be handled with the utmost discretion which is why I will trust no one with this job, not even Maul.

It is not a decision I have to justify to anyone… even myself.

Yet my efforts have proven quite fruitful for I have gathered much pertinent information about her.

For instance, I now know that Amidala likes walking against the crowd instead of with it, that she likes her morning coffee with sugar and cream and that at times, she stops at a shop to admire the displays in the window before moving on.

Nothing that my enemy does is beneath my notice, such is my thoroughness, such is my dedication to precision.

That's the only reason I find these things important.

The only reason at all.

I pull my cloak closer around my as I continue behind her.

I have been following Amidala for four days now, ever since Maul informed me that another rendezvous would the Jedi was nigh and though I am not privy to the details of the meeting, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the Jedi are using her to do their dirty work—finding a Sith Lord.

It is… unexpected that the Jedi would employ Amidala, but not surprising. They are desperate, so they're using someone who has access to information that they don't have to sift me out.

Pussies.

Using Padmé Amidala is a calculated risk, an error in my opinion, for she cannot be controlled.

But this is all the better for me, because desperate people make stupid mistakes, and Amidala is one of the Jedi's. They will learn this soon, though; she will show them that better than I can.

I move into the shadows as Amidala pauses and looks around. She frowns slightly and then moves toward a closed stall where another person is already standing.

I look closer.

The man is covered from head to toe in a normal dark, civilian cloak, yet I can immediately tell who it is.

It's a Jedi; Obi-Wan Kenobi.

I blink, a ferocious frown burgeoning over my features.

I do _not_ like this Jedi Master.

Stealthily, quietly, I move behind the covered, closed vendor and stand in front of them, careful to erect a Force bubble that suppresses my Force signature as I lean forward to hearing what is being said.

"…Really necessary to meet here?" Amidala is saying with barely concealed exasperation. "We couldn't have met at… you know… a more _civilized_ location?"

"You know the secrecy is necessary, Padmé," Kenobi responds, lowly. "Our meeting cannot be known."

"Yes, of course," Amidala says sarcasm in her voice, "wouldn't want everyone to know that the Order is in the business of coercing people, do we?"

"Padmé…" Kenobi says softly, his voice full of reproach.

"Oh, you thought that I was over it?" she responds, her voice cold. "Not on your life, Kenobi."

Coerced? She had been forced to work for the Jedi? _Interesting_. The Order has more balls that I anticipated. It is definitely information to file away for the future.

"But enough of this," she continues, "this is the list that I've complied for the Jedi."

I hear a rustling of cloth before a small pop. There is silence before Kenobi speaks again, "These are all the names you could come up with?"

"Yes, these are all the politicians in the Senate who fit the criteria given."

I listen closely, tilting my head toward them.

There is another silence before Kenobi says quietly, "I am surprised that Senator Anakin Skywalker is not on this list."

His words make my stomach clench in surprise… and something else.

My name is not on her list?

That's _interesting_.

_Very_ interesting!

Without a doubt, Amidala knows that I am the Sith Lord, she followed me, after all.

But she had not put me on her list.

She didn't put me on the list.

The knowledge fills me with nearly dizzying elation. I feel _empowered_… dangerous… and light in a strange way.

It is a disturbing type of lightness, one that I've never felt before, but I _like_ it.

Amidala had not put me on her list.

She did not betray me to the Jedi.

She did _not_ betray me to the Jedi!

Shaking my head, I force myself to focus and push the implications of Amidala's actions into the back of my mind for later reflection because a _serious_ issue has presented itself: Kenobi is suspicious of me after only a single meeting.

The knowledge is… _unsettling_. I had known he was a problem the first time I met him, but now he is more than that and must be dealt with immediately, _especially_ if he hasn't shared his misgivings about me with other members of the Order. I cannot allow the Jedi to know who I am yet. It is too soon.

Much too soon.

There is a tense silence, before Amidala speaks, "I did not put him on the list because he does not fit the criteria given to me by the Jedi."

"No," Kenobi admits, "I suppose not. But still, put him on the list. There is something about him that… just doesn't feel right."

Yes, Kenobi is a problem.

"You have to give me more than that to put him on the list, Obi-Wan," she responds immediately, her voice hardening. "I know you Jedi prize your Force feelings, but I need concrete information on bad behavior in order to add him."

"You're right," Obi-Wan concedes with a sigh. "I will turn in the list, but I do ask that you look deeper into Skywalker. I know that you are acquainted with him, but every time I see the man, the Force begins screaming at me."

I frown at his words. He is wrong. I am Darth Vader, the Chosen One of the Force: It whispers to me and I hear its voice. The Force would not call me to the attention of another Force User and _especially_ not a Jedi.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is a liar.

"I'll do what I can, Obi-Wan," Amidala says finally after a short silence, noncommittally.

"That's all I ask," he responds and I can hear the gratitude in his voice.

Before another word can be said, a rattling sound outside the back of the booth draws my attention. I turn around quickly to see a tall, skinny Human ducking inside, a scowl on his face and a blaster in his hand.

"Hey! Who are you and why are you in my place?" he snarls, his voice low with menace, "you tryna steal from me?!"

"Run along," I respond quietly, dismissively, with a wave of my hand as I turn back to the conversation at hand.

"What?" he says enraged, his voice increasing in volume, "I can kill you right now and not even blin—"

I do not even deign to turn around as the man's speech stops sharply, abruptly, frightened huffs coming from him as I use the Force to circle and crush his windpipe.

I curse the man inwardly as Amidala pauses in whatever she was saying, "Did you hear that?" she says, concern in her voice.

"Yes, I did. Perhaps we should conclude this meeting," Obi-Wan responds in kind, his voice lowering even more.

I grit my teeth and increase the Force pressure on the man's throat, forcing the little sounding coming out of him to cease.

"That would probably be a good idea," Amidala agrees.

I hear more rustling before Amidala speaks again, hesitantly, "Obi-Wan… be careful, okay?"

There is a tense silence in which I imagine Kenobi is nodding, before it goes quiet and all that I hear is the normal bustle of the marketplace.

I straighten up and turn around, crossing my arms over my chest and rubbing my chin as I step over the still writhing Human on the ground.

What an interesting turn of events.

Although Obi-Wan Kenobi is suspicious of me, the Jedi do not know about me because Amidala refused to add me to her list of potential suspects.

What does it mean that Amidala knows who I am but did not tell?

There's only one thing it _can_ mean. She _wants_ me, just as I always knew that she did.

The thought produces a familiar surge of elation as an unholy, golden gleam lights up my eyes.

It is over; the wait is over.

The time to take Amidala is now.

I will possess Amidala soon.

I _must_.

The undercurrent of desire that has plagued me since meeting her has now transformed into a gnawing hunger, a ravenous beast that will not be tamed, will not be placated. Padmé Amidala cannot continue to remain unclaimed, especially now that I knows what she has done.

She has _protected_ me.

The thought makes me pause and, for a moment, it feels as though someone has punched me in the stomach.

Amidala protected me.

She _protected_ me.

The very thought of it makes me dizzy and I frown as something inside of me clenches tightly.

Amidala protected me…

I cannot remember the last time someone has protected me… and for no reason at all.

It is uncomfortable, the unfamiliar feelings burgeoning in my belly.

Amidala protected me, and by doing so, has put the last nail in the coffin, so to speak.

She has chosen me. Over the Jedi, over her insipid principles. Over everyone.

She has chosen _me_!

Just as I have chosen her.

I nod, a dark smirk stretching my lips.

Amidala will make a fine Empress, an incredible asset to my plans.

I must begin to prepare for her immediately for the time for me to make my move has come.

Soon, no later than the end of this week, Amidala will be mine. Mine to ravish, mine to manipulate, to touch…

_All _mine.

Nose flaring, I move to leave the stall, but then stop abruptly and turn back to my prey. His shaking has descended to twitching, his eyes have rolled into the back of his head and white foam is coming from his mouth.

I sigh in disgust; the least he could do is show a bit more dignity in the face of death.

Holding up my open hand up, palm toward me, I close it, crushing his windpipe instantly.

I study the dead body for a moment before kicking it once and swooping out.

I still have a Senator to follow, after all.

And there's still so many more interesting things to learn about her.

#*#*#*#*#

_Obi-Wan Kenobi_ is a problem.

I am once again in my living room in 500 Republica as I contemplate the last few days… as I contemplate Amidala.

I have tried to keep her out of my mind, but now, after today's events, I see no reason to do so and allow my thoughts to drift to the time we had together five days ago.

Doing something so mundane as watching movies was… interesting, to say the least and not at all what I expected to do although I _had_ no real expectations when I decided to show up at Amidala's door. I have found that doing so is foolhardy for she is one of the few truly unpredictable people I have met.

If someone had told me that I would enjoyed watching movies with a senator just a week ago, I would have laughed at them and then Force Choked them to death for their gall.

But I think…

I think I had _fun_.

But that's impossible; Sith Lords do not have _fun_.

I have felt _joy_ as I cut down my enemy, _satisfaction_ as my plans fall into place, but never have I felt such a great sense of gratification without the Dark Side being present or without it pertaining to my plans for Galactic domination.

And I _do not_ like it.

I don't like the way Amidala makes me feel when she looks at me with her big brown eyes. I don't like the way my heart seems to beat faster when she waves her hair and wafts of her shampoo float to into my nostrils. I don't like how her femininity makes me feel as strong as a gundark.

I don't like that I have spent the last few days trailing her.

She is supposed to love and adore me, but the feeling was never supposed to be reciprocated.

And now, as I think about my day, I realize that to ignore my actions would be foolish, to fix it would be better. Yet… the means to do so are unacceptable. I cannot kill her, cannot make her disappear.

I don't want to.

And now, yet _another_ problem has presented itself.

Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi wants her.

I am displeased that I did not see it before and only discovered it as I came out of the vendor's booth this afternoon to follow Amidala home. I was almost out of the market before I realized that I was not the only one doing so.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was also following her.

And as I looked at him watching her in an unguarded moment, it struck me like a ton of durasteel.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is in love with Senator Amidala.

It was in the way he stared at her, his eyes alight with such sickening devotion that I was tempted to cut him down right there where he stood, in front of all those market patrons.

I should have seen it before, and now that I reflect on the times I've seen them together, I see that it's always been there, especially in the way the man hovers over her, the way he talks to her… the way he won't _leave her the hell alone_.

If Obi-Wan Kenobi weren't a Jedi, he'd have attempted to lay claim to her a long time ago.

She, of course, doesn't see it and I wonder if he's even acknowledged it. He probably hasn't and has instead chosen to ignore it like a good Jedi would.

For his own sake, he'd better continue to ignore it or he will be the first Jedi whose blood has the honor of meeting my lightsaber.

Yet this knowledge that another man wants what's mine, that another man covets my woman…

I despise the feeling.

It makes me want to kill Kenobi even _more_.

Knowing that he wants her changes _everything_. Jedi are weak, constantly battling their wants and desires in a futile attempt to be the quintessential noble warrior. Those bonds are unnatural and break all the time as is evidenced by the amount of Dark Jedi running around the Galaxy.

Kenobi's will might break as well and I cannot be sure that she would reject him.

I will have to claim Amidala sooner than I anticipated.

For I will suffer no competition for her heart.

#*#*#*#*#

I am in my work room when the bell to my apartment rings.

I pause, my body growing still.

Someone is at my door.

My nose flares at the implication. No one knows where I live, not even that I reside in this building, so who could it be?

Maul would not dare show his face here again, not without my express permission, so it cannot be him. Perhaps it's Obi-Wan Kenobi?

I frown ferociously at the thought.

I cannot kill a Jedi here, so I would have to talk to him, be _pleasant_ to him. The very thought makes my stomach roll with nausea.

Fucking Jedi.

The bell sounds again.

I turn and move toward the door, not bothering to put on any more clothes that what I have on; pants and a flowing night cloak.

If it is not the Jedi, then whoever it is, is dead. It'll be a good way to release some steam after my day.

But when I open the door, it is not the Jedi. It's not a reporter, it's the one person I didn't expect.

It's Senator Amidala.

For a moment, I just stand in my doorway and stare at her, somehow unable to be surprised.

She glances at me, unimpressed with my state of undress before pushing past me and into my suite.

She pauses as she takes in the decor of my apartment, an eyebrow raised.

"Nice," she says in a tone that says she doesn't think it's very nice at all.

"I like it dark," I respond smoothly, pressing a button making the door shut with a soft thud. "I guess it would be redundant to ask you how you found out where I live?"

She threw a smirk over her shoulder. "Yes, it would be."

I follow her to the couch, a sudden surge of excitement and anticipation going through me at the knowledge that Amidala _is in my apartment_.

I am so pleased, it feels as though I will explode.

"So," I say with a raised eyebrow as we both sit, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

She sits back and folds her legs, staring at me intently. I merely return the look, not blinking, refusing to give anything away on my face.

"What are your intentions toward me?" she asks suddenly.

I answer, not missing a beat, "I want to fuck you."

She blinks, her eyes narrowing to slits on me. "Is that all?"

I ponder her words for a moment, sitting back in the seat as well to survey her.

"No," I answer softly.

"Then what?"

"I want to possess you," I respond immediately, my eyes boring into her. "I want to own you in every way. I want to be what you think about in the morning when you wake and what you see before you close your eyes at night."

She falls silent, cocking her head at me as though thinking about something. For once, I am unsure where she is going with this but I find I do not care. Amidala has willingly walked into the lion's den, into my home.

She will not leave unscathed.

"What do I get in return?" she asks quietly, her chocolate eyes never leaving mine.

Another good question.

"What do you want?" I reply curiously, my eyes holding hers.

She stares at me for a moment longer before a slow smile curves her lips.

"I want everything that you are. I want your soul."

Both my eyebrows rise and an answering smile stretches my lips, "Your price is high. Besides, do you think you can handle my soul?"

Folding her legs, Amidala leans against the back of the coach and gazes at her me, her stare so intent that I can nearly feel it, "I don't _think_ I can, Skywalker. I _know_ I can."

I nod thoughtfully.

Rising, I move to sit beside her and I feel her stiffen slightly as I do.

Her eyes widen slightly as I slowly pull her into my arms, lifting her effortless and settling her on my lap.

"You are so beautiful," I tell her softly, capturing a dark curl between my fingers. "I want to strip you of all the smoke, all the mirrors that you place before the world. I want to see you raw, naked… free. It will be splendid."

I release the curl, running my hand gently down her check to her neck, feeling the wild fluttering of her pulse there. "Then," I continue softly, "I will adorn you with flowers, with leias, the most beautiful of all nubian blossoms."

She is breathing hard now and the sound of her obvious arousal is like ambrosia. Power unlike any I've ever known courses through me and I still myself to control the absolute adrenaline coursing through me, the headiness of it all.

I dip my head into her neck, breathing in her delicious scent. A smirk of pure arrogance and satisfaction adorns my face when her lithe arms slip around me, pulling me close.

I pull away from her slightly to look her in the eyes.

"Tell me, Amidala," I say, enjoying her glazed expression, "why now?"

"Because I want you," she answers softly, "and because I think you're ready."

"Is that so?" I purr, my grip on her neck suddenly increasing, "or is it because the Jedi told you to watch me?"

She stiffens so suddenly, I hear her spine crack.

For a moment she pauses there, in my arms, and I wonder what she's thinking.

I can snap her neck, killing her in a second. It would be easy, clean and quite convenient for I can hazard a guess and say that no one knows she's here. Amidala is not great on letting people into her plans; she works alone. I could say to hell with an investigation into her death—if I were to eliminate her here and now, no one would know that it was me. Even the Jedi, with their suspicions, would be unable to pry without solid proof. She has, in essence, created the perfect crime for me.

Amidala is totally and _completely_ at my mercy and she quite obviously knows it.

I feel her take a steadying breath against me before she pulls back and I am surprised and pleased to find her glaring at me.

A meek lamb my Empress is not.

"You knew all along," she bites out through clenched teeth, "you knew that I knew about you."

It's not question.

"Yes," I respond simply, gently rubbing her throat.

"Then why did you allow me to continue, knowing that I could expose you to the Jedi?" she snaps harshly.

I shrug. "I wanted to see if you would. But you didn't."

Her lips tremble with fury and I know she would attack me right now if she wasn't in such an impossible position.

"You do realize," I say slowly, smugly "what this means?"

"Fuck you," she spits, her eyes afire with loathing.

So, she _does_ know what it means.

I smile and allow Darth Vader, my true self, to shine through. It is freeing and empowering and something she'd better get used to for she will never see that pussy, Anakin Skywalker, in these chambers again. And she will be seeing much of this place from now on. _Much._

She pauses, her eyes widening and I can see the horror in them as I feel my eyes turn to the yellow of the Sith.

"Sleep now, Senator," I say with a feral, mockingly tender smile, "we will play when you awaken."

With a gentle touch to her head, I send her into a Force induced sleep, holding her close as she pitches forward.

Rising slowly, I gather her into my arms, taking a perverse moment to relish the lingering scent of her fear, and then head toward the bedroom.

My excitement is so high that it feels like I'm going to explode.

Nothing has ever made me feel this way, not even killing Sidious. It makes me wonder and it also forces me to realize how dangerous this is. It's unwise to keep her here; it's dangerous to crave her the way I do.

But I'm not letting her go.

As I place her on my bed, I stand there and stare at her.

I _should_ let her go.

I can erase her memories; it's an action that's fully possible with a Force user, only the lily white Jedi would never allow themselves to do such a thing, but, as a Sith, I could and would. She'd never know I was Darth Vader and all the Jedi would be able to gleam was that her memories were tampered with; they'd never be able to trace it back to me.

I could be rid of her forever.

But as I watch her chest move up and down, as I digest her furrowed brows that betray her uncertainty in her situation, even in her sleep, I know that I will not.

I won't let her go.

I _can't_.

It should disturb me more than it does—and on a deeper level, it does—but at this point, I don't care.

Because I can't… I just _won't_…

Let her go.

I continue to watch her before leaving the room.

My decision is made; Padmé Amidala is mine.

Now, I must finish my preparations.

When next Padmé Amidala wakes, everything will be different.

End of chapter 17: Please review guys!

**Chapter 19: Possession: **The validity of claims.

A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed last chapter:

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	19. Possession

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 19: Possession**

**By WrittinInStone**

**_D_**_arth _**_V_**_ader_

She's waking up… right on schedule.

Relaxed, I stand by the door with my arms crossed, gazing steadily upon her quietly stirring form.

Amidala looks so small in the middle of my massive, king sized bed. So fragile, so delicate…

My eyebrows lifts as her eyes suddenly snap open and she sits up quickly, her eyes finding me, the instant heat in them searing me, cutting me to the quick.

… So enraged.

I gaze upon her visage, intrigued. She is so changeable, so _unpredictable_. I didn't know what to expect upon her awakening, but now, it seems that her earlier fear is gone and all that remains is fury.

Interesting and much, _much_ more acceptable.

Her fury I want, her fear, I do not.

"Finally, you're awake," I begin cheerfully, grinning at her. "I thought you were going to sleep all night."

She is silent as I speak, merely stares at me with narrowed, brown eyes.

"I'm not going to ask you why you brought me into what is obviously your bedroom," she says finally, tersely, "it would be a stupid question."

I nod, agreeing with her. "Yes, it would be."

"You want me to have sex with you," she continues monotonously, her body tense, her eyes never leaving my face.

I roll my eyes. "Amidala, no one has ever called you romantic, have they? Did you even _notice_ the room before you started panicking?"

She frowns, but then her eyes widen as she finally takes in the room's decor.

While she slept, I had been busy. Candles adorn every flat surface, lighting the room in a soft glow. Unlike the rest of my apartment, my room is a warm, soft, cream color outlined in sangria red; it is homey and the light of the candles only serve to emphasize it.

It's visually pleasing and romantic, everything a woman would want when losing her virginity.

I never knew I had it in me.

"You think candles are going to convince me to spread my legs?" she asks with a short laugh, an eyebrow rising into her forehead.

"No," I respond, shaking my head, "I expect you to do it because you're finally tired of fighting me."

"And what if I say no and decide to _continue_ fighting you?" she asks with acid sweetness, her hands tightening into a fist.

I sigh again, more in exasperation than anything. Trust Amidala to be difficult. But it's okay. For once, it's _actually_ okay. This is important to me, _she_ is important to me, more so than I've allowed myself to admit until now.

Amidala must be mine.

She _must_.

And it must be her choice.

I cannot rush this, cannot force her…

But I can speed up the process; why delay the inevitable?

With a delightful twist of my wrist, I bring my lightsaber to my hand.

Her face and body tightens at my action and I know she's ready to pounce at any threatening move from me. I pause for a moment, unable to help but admire her toughness, her fearlessness, before getting back to business.

"Amidala," I say calmly, holding up my lightsaber in one hand, and holding the other one up, palms open and toward her in the universal gesture of surrender, "this is my lightsaber, one of the few items that I own that holds true value for me."

I hold it up for a moment longer before slowly pressing a button on the side. With a noise I always find extremely satisfying, my lightsaber activates, filling the room with a humming sound and casting a sinister, crimson glow on the wall.

"Pressing the button on the side activates it," I continue, holding it up so she can see. "A lightsaber can cut through anything, save another lightsaber. It is one of the most dangerous weapons in the galaxy and highly effective if taught to be used properly."

"Why are you telling me this?" she demands, distrustfully, edging to the far side of the bed.

"So I can do _this_," I reply and before she can react, my thumb is off of the button and I've tossed the deactivated lightsaber on the bed, watching as it rolls to rest gently against her knee.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she breathes, her eyes wide, her mouth working silently in confusion.

"Giving you a choice," I say breezily, moving to lean against my bedroom door, "and it is this: You can use that lightsaber to cut me down, or you can _put_ it down and allow me to fuck your brains out. But know this, you _must_ choose. I have wanted you for a very long time and I cannot, under my own power, allow you to leave. So, if you want out, you'll have to kill me. If you choose to do that, I will not defend myself, I will not attack you; you can put that sword through me and be done with me… _permanently._ _But_…" I pause, allowing the word to linger in the air, "if you do _not_ kill me, I'm going to spend the rest of the night touching and licking and prodding every single inch of your body," I say seriously, staring at her intently. "And you will not leave until I allow you. That is," I murmur absently, thoughtfully, "if I _do_ ever decide to allow you to leave."

I stare at her a second longer, head tilted, "To use a very old expression, Amidala; the ball is in your court."

She is silent, staring first at the lightsaber and then back at me.

"You're sick," she says quietly, shaking her head, "you _cannot_ be serious."

"Oh," I respond calmly, "but I am."

I pause for a minute, staring at her stony features before letting out a quick, sharp laugh. "What do you think I am, Amidala? An idiot? I know that you want me and I know you were completely ready for me to 'force' your cooperation," I say, placing particular emphasis on the word, "but you're not going to get off that easily. You're going to walk into this knowing full well that this is _exactly_ what you wanted. You're not going to be able to blame me, to say that you only did it because I forced or coerced you. When you wake up tomorrow morning with my cock hard and hot in you, fucking you as though my very _life_ depends on it, it'll be because that's what _you_ _wanted_."

Her jaw is tight and I can see it ticking, denoting just how furious she is… and how aroused.

"Very well," she says icily, bounding off of the bed, lightsaber in hand. "Maybe if I cut you down you'll shut the fuck up."

I merely smile at her and cross my arms as she approaches me steadily, hand gripping the weapon tightly.

With a resolute press of the button, she activates my lightsaber.

"Any last words?" she asks tersely.

"No, I'm fine," I respond with mock cheerfulness, eyes intent on her.

She glares at me for a moment, before turning her gaze to the lightsaber in her hands.

"Have you ever killed anyone with this thing?" she asks abruptly, holding it away from her as though it'd bite her.

"Yes," I reply immediately, confidently, "I've killed many."

"Is that so?" she murmurs softly as she beings to move away from me, toward the veranda connected to my bedroom. I follow her, caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject.

"Did you kill your former master with it? The one you hated so much?" she continues, waving it slowly in the air, seemingly fascinating with the red afterimages it leaves behind.

"Yes," I reply curiously, watching as she reaches the balcony, turning so that her back is against the solid, cold stone, an arm stretched to its length so my lightsaber is pointing straight up in the air.

"So… you have a lot of memories wrapped around this thing? Memories of becoming free? Of victory over your enemies?"

"Yes," I reply with a frown, unease slithering down my spine as she removes her thumb from the button and deactivates it, running her hand slowly along the hilt, examining it.

"Good," she says finally with a smirk and before I know what is happening, she is tossing my lightsaber over the side of the veranda.

The world slows down and I can only stare in horror as my most prized possession disappears over the side of the balcony.

Emitting a strangled bellow of outrage, I rush to Amidala's side, arriving only in time to watch my beloved lightsaber vanish into the darkness and chaos of Coruscant.

Enraged, I turn to her, yellow eyes glowing so brightly I can _feel_ it. "Do you have any fucking _idea_ what you've just _done_? What the hell were you thinking?" I thunder, hands literally _shaking_ with the overwhelming need to Force Choke the life out of her!

"Well," she says sweetly, seemingly completely oblivious to the jeopardy she's in as she crosses her arms and smiles up at me, pleased, "if you're going to take my virginity, the least I can do is take your manhood."

I stare at her, mouth agape and for the first time in my life, a foreign emotion is simmering underneath my fury: admiration.

"You fucking bitch," I say quietly, nose flaring as lust and rage collide like a maelstrom within me, "you do realize you're going to pay for that?"

"Yeah," she answers with a dismissive wave of her hand, smirking smugly at me, showing not even a _hint_ of fear at my explosive ire, "I know. But now, so have you."

She reaches up and gently pats my stunned face, before grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the bedroom.

"Now, candle boy, let's get started. I'd really like to know what all the fuss is about this sex stuff."

#*#*#*#*#

I should kill this woman, I really, _really_ should kill her.

I am leaning against the wall, staring at the veranda, the site where a serious crime was committed against me.

My lightsaber, my _lightsaber_: The weapon I used to kill Sidious and to slay all my enemies, the only thing that has witnessed my journey from the slave boy I once was to the powerful Sith Lord I am now, is gone, lying among the unwashed masses of lower level Coruscant. I was uncharacteristically attached to it, even naming the fucking thing for Force's sake!

And now Bloodletter is gone.

I should kill this woman.

"You're not still pouting, are you?"

I turn to glare at Amidala, who is sitting comfortably on _my_ bed, an amused expression on her face.

"That was my lightsaber," I say through clenched teeth.

"Yes, I know," she says with sympathy, moving to stand in front of me, "it's not fun to lose something invaluable, something that can never be regained once it's lost, is it?"

"Ah," I say, slowly shaking my head, pushing away my anger as I stare down at her coldly, "but you haven't lost something like that… not _yet."_

She frowns at me, her eyes flickering as she hastily moves to take a step back.

"No, no, no no, no no," I say, grabbing her arm and gently pulling her body close until she is flush against me, "you've had your fun and took away something that, by your own admission, was extremely important to me _and_ is insanely difficult to replace, by the way. But now, I think it's time to even the score, don't you?"

Without waiting for an answer, I sweep her into my arms, bridal style, and carry her to the bed.

Her body is stiff as I sit her down gently, her small limbs hanging off the edge.

I look down at her, but her head is turned away, refusing to look at me.

"Hey," I say gently, brushing the back of knuckles against her soft cheek. She blinks and then turns to stare up at me, her eyes dark and luminous… and apprehensive.

Then it dawns on me; this isn't about me, it's about her… about losing her virginity after all this time, about being a different woman come morning; a woman who knows what it is to please a man… and be pleased by one in return.

She is feeling the same jitters every virgin feels before they have sex for the first time.

But that simply won't do. I want my lioness, not a lamb.

Time to remind her of who she is.

"Undress me," I say suddenly, looking down at her expectantly.

She frowns. "What?" she asks stiffly.

"Undress me, it's not that hard."

And there it is, her spirit.

She glares at me sharply, offended, and I am pleased to see the apprehension is gone. And as she stands up defiantly, it strikes me again how _small_ she is compared to me. It's amazing to think that so much power and personality comes in such a little package. And by the end of the night, I'll know what _else_ that package is capable of.

Amidala tugs gently at the fabric of my robe before standing on her tip toes and reaching up to push it off my shoulders, her hands running over my muscles and down my arms as she does so. She takes a deep breath as I am bared from the waist up.

She goes to my pants, moving a little faster now, hooking the top around my hips and pushing it down, allowing it to fall.

She reaches for my boxers, but I stop her.

"My turn," I say with lecherous smirk. I undress her slowly, agonizingly, taking extreme pleasure in revealing the prize that is her, inch by tantalizing inch.

"Skywalker," she begins, a hitch in her throat as I lay my palm against her waist and caress her in gentle circles.

"Considering what we're about to do," I interrupt, now kneeling in front of her, examining her panties, "I think it's appropriate that you call me Vader."

"Vader?" she asks in confusion, breathlessly.

"Yes," I respond, pausing in my inspection, looking up at her, "that's my name. Darth Vader."

"I thought it was Anakin Skywalker."

I grimace; that _name_ again. When I become emperor the first thing I will do will be to outlaw the use of the name _Anakin Skywalker_. Anyone in violation will meet the glowing end of my lightsaber—_when I get another one_, I think with an annoyed sigh.

Anakin Skywalker was weak and is long dead. I'm using his name for convenience purposes _only_ because I am _not_ him; I'm not that scared boy anymore.

I'll never be him again.

"It was, but it's not anymore," I reply tersely, "I am a Sith now and my name is Darth Vader."

She is quiet for a moment before she nodding, "I like Anakin," Amidala responds cheerfully, obstinately.

"My name is Darth Vader," I growl at her, annoyance clear on my face and in my voice, "I am _not_ that pussy Anakin Skywal—"

"Anakin," she interrupts, ignoring me, "do you really want to argue about names while we're trying to have sex?"

It's then that I snapped.

I don't know when I lost control of this situation, but enough is _enough_.

I'm going to regain it back.

_Now_.

Enough with the gentle approach; that's obviously not working if she can hold a fucking conversation about my name choice while I'm trying to make her fucking howl my name.

That's probably why she wants to call me Anakin, because I'm acting like a pussy.

Time to be a Sith…

…And take what's mine.

#*#*#*#*#

It is the rays of Coruscant's suns that wake me up.

I squint against the light as my arms tighten around her, the same way they've been doing all night.

Around _her_… Padme Amidala.

My woman.

Opening my eyes, I rise slightly to look at her, blinking slowly as I study her profile: Her dark chocolate hair curls as it lays against her supple cheek and her chest moves slightly as she breathes in and out.

It's amazing how peacefully she sleeps in my arms, even now that she knows who and what I am. That she trusts me enough to rest so soundly is incredible… and empowering.

I breathe deeply, something akin to wonder alighting within me.

And to think that in the early days of our relationship, I wanted to destroy her, seeing her as unpredictable, volatile, angry and aggressive. And all of that is still true, but instead of despising her for it, it is what draws me to her. It makes her special, fearless, _challenging_.

It makes her just like me.

Sighing softly, I pull her a little closer.

If I had really wanted her dead, I should have done it a long time ago before I allowed Amidala—no, _Padmé_,—to become too close to me.

For now…

_Now_…

She is necessary to me.

I close my eyes for a moment before leaning forward and burying my face in her hair, enjoying the savory tang of her natural scent in my nostrils.

It hasn't slackened, this all consuming desire I have for her. In the back of my mind I had hoped that having her, tasting her, would quench my thirst for her, would allow me to discard her like I've done so many others.

But it has not.

It has only added to my desires, has made me realize that perhaps this need for her will not abate, will not go away.

I may feel this way forever.

The thought doesn't surprise me, nor does it anger me.

It just _is_; a new facet of my life.

And I…

I like it.

I like having her near, like having her around. I like it when she smiles and when she glares at me. I like to watch her eat, how she mixes the oddest things and seems to enjoy it, I like how she challenges me and how, even when I alarm her, she never hesitates to bust my balls.

I like not being alone.

Stroking her arm, I run my hand down to the back of hers, lacing my fingers into it and she encloses the tips of them, rubbing and squeezing the tips of my fingers as she stirs to full wakefulness.

She takes a huge breath, sighing deeply, then turns around in my arms.

She is so close that I can feel her breath on my lips. I stare at her and she stares at me, her fingers still stroking mine.

"You are so… beautiful," the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I do not attempt to.

She smiles, and my fucking heart skips a beat.

It _skips a_ beat.

Like I'm a fucking girl.

I frown, shaking my head in annoyance. She should not be so lovely to me, so exquisite. I honestly don't understand why she affects me so. Padmé is pretty; gorgeous even, but I have been with many beautiful women, some who can literally take the breath away.

Yet they all pale in comparison to her, indeed, I cannot even remember their faces.

The only woman I can see is her, the only thing I can think about is her smile that's lighting up the room, outshining the suns.

"You're not too bad yourself," she admits, her smile soft and lingering. "Actually, I've often wanted to scratch your face up because you're so hot. Evil shouldn't look this good."

I smirk, "I'm sorry to disappoint, milady."

She shrugs and heaves an exaggerated sigh, "I suppose I'll just have to learn to live with it," she says with mock disappointment.

She should, because she's never leaving my side.

Smiling at her, I shrug, "It looks that way."

She gives my fingers one final squeeze before attempting to get up, only to flop back down when I apply gentle pressure on her shoulders.

"It's the weekend," I say mildly in response to the piercing scowl she sends me, rubbing the offended shoulder soothingly, "we can lie here a little while longer before getting up."

She continues to glare at me for a moment, her look clearly saying that our fucking doesn't mean I control her,—an action which I raise an eyebrow to, amused— then snuggles up into my chest, carefully entwining our hands again.

"Fine," she concedes grumpily, moving slightly to get comfortable again, "but you're making breakfast."

"Fine," I agree in kind, leaning over to nuzzle her cheek, "I'll make you anything you want."

"Yes, you will," she says sassily, with a sleepy smile, stifling a yawn as she nuzzles me in the crook of my neck.

Moments later she is asleep again, but I'm not surprised. She should be exhausted after our rigorous activities of last night.

It is then that it dawns on me: This is the first time in my life that I've slept with someone through a whole night, this is the first "morning after" that I've ever had.

And it is quite pleasing… _more_ than pleasing, actually.

It is good.

_Really_ good.

Is this how it's going to be every time? Will I always wake up to the soft music of her breathing? To the feel of her small hands wrapped around mine? To the warm glow of her smile?

Pausing, I allow the implications to sink into me.

I can have this, I can _actually_ have it; something I have not dreamed of since I was a child, something that had not even crossed my mind as an adult, but I could have it.

Companionship.

_Real_ companionship.

And maybe…

Maybe something _more_.

A delicious shiver goes through me at the last thought and I allow myself to indulge in it for just a short moment before ruthlessly pushing it aside.

I cannot allow myself to believe, to even _contemplate_ it, at least not yet. I am a Sith; I have plans and in order for Padmé and me to be together, she must fall into line with them. I have invested _too much_, done _too much_ to make my plans a reality to give up on it now and I _won't,_ because I don't want to.

I _will_ be Emperor of the Galaxy; it is my dream, and she will be my Empress. We will rule together and she will never leave my side.

Somehow, I must gain her cooperation and when I do, she will be an invaluable asset, gaining me allies in the Senate and perhaps even learning of the Jedi's plans for me.

And I have decided that I _need_ to know how the Jedi intend to destroy me.

Sidious saw little threat in the Jedi, but I will not be so foolish; they have not become so dominant in the galaxy through sheer luck alone. They are dangerous just by virtue of them being powerful, extremely organized and much, _much_ larger than my two-member Sith. One wrong move and they'll find out who I am and _end_ me.

With extreme prejudice.

And that I cannot allow to happen.

I will move forward with my plans and will, if necessary, force Padmé's compliance. If her feelings are as strong for me as I believe, she will not hate me, but continue to fight fruitlessly in the pursuit of stopping me.

I will allow this, for she has proven that she wants me alive and will not give me over to the Jedi to be put under suspicion. Yet I know she will remain that way only as long as she has no idea that I plan to destroy the Jedi and take over the Galaxy. If she discovers this too soon, feelings or not, she will attempt to stop me… maybe even kill me.

Padmé must not find out.

My eyes narrow as I contemplate my new plan of attack.

She will submit to me and that, by any means necessary.

Sighing, I glance down at her, pity filling me. She has become the possession of a monster, something she has not fully realized yet.

Becoming my woman has not bettered her situation, indeed, my feelings for her have made her life that much harder. For, unlike most, she is not beneath my radar, but is the focus of it, a position that she will surely chaff at once its significance becomes known.

And despite the new development in our relationship, she should not expect me to change over much. I will still kill and lie and do whatever is necessary to achieve my goals.

But it won't be because she isn't important to me, or because I wish to use her, or even because her wishes mean nothing to me.

No, it will be thusly simply because it is my way.

The way of the Sith.

End of Chapter 19: Please review!

**Chapter 20: Entrapment**: Amidala feels trapped.


	20. Entrapment

**Chapter 20: Entrapment**

**_P_**_admé _**_A_**_midala_

I know as soon as I awaken that I'm not in my own room.

The bed is a bit firmer; the room, darker; the feel of it all, different.

And I'm warm; _incredibly, deliciously_ warm.

The realization of where I am doesn't flood me suddenly like it does in those cheesy romance novels. No, as soon as I wake I know _exactly_ where I am because it's quite impossible to forget it, so much so that I'm pretty sure I dreamed about it.

I lay there stiffly, refusing to open my eyes as I feel the source of my warmth staring down at me. I know he is cognizant that I am awake, but seems content to watch me pretend to be asleep.

Good; I don't want to engage in any verbal sparing with him right now: I need to think.

Taking a slight breath, I slowly allow the tension to leaving my body, only to immediately stiffen when the movement makes pain bloom to life between my thighs.

Shit.

Damn.

_Fuck_.

I grit my teeth, frowning at the aching soreness.

In all of people's tales about the joys of sex, why did no woman ever mention the pain that accompanied rough copulation? They all made it sound gloriously fulfilling in a lascivious kind of way, yet they never, _ever_ mentioned the after effects.

Figures.

Determinedly, I force my body to relax, trying not to move so as not to elicit any more pain.

The soreness in my body only serves to tell me that it's official: I am no longer a virgin. It's funny, but I've never thought about how I would feel following my first sexual encounter and now that I am indeed experiencing it, I still don't know how to quantify it.

I guess the best way to describe it is_ strange_.

Not good, not bad, but strange.

The sex was amazing… incredible… transcendent even, so much so that the trauma and hardships I expected to face after my ordeal with the Trade Federation never happened.

I was so wrapped up in him, in what he was doing that I had absolutely no time to fear, no time to reflect on the differences between what I heard that day and what I was experiencing.

Skywalker touched me, kissed me, licked me in ways that made me behave as I never thought I would. The way he made me feel… There are no words to describe it. How can one vocalize the utter ecstasy of our joining? The feelings of absolute pleasure his hands brought to every inch of my skin?

It was extraordinary and my body is sated; heavy with contentment and satisfied exhaustion even through the soreness.

And yet…

Yet…

Something's _missing_.

The warm and fuzzy feeling that I've always dreamed would accompany my first time just wasn't there.

Our coupling was wild, raw and filthy; we _fucked_, pure and simple.

There was no closeness, no spiritual connection.

No love.

And that fact makes my heart ache.

I knew what I was getting into when I came here, what would happen when I arrived at his door, but it makes the lack no less harder to deal with.

It had never been my intention to give in this early: I had wanted to wait, to continue to put Skywalker off before allowing him to have me, but that was before discovering a few undesirable details about Obi-Wan's assignment. Apparently, the reason Obi-Wan is being given a new, dangerous mission is because the Jedi don't think he's handling the situation with me very well.

My first reaction was anger. Was not Obi-Wan manipulating me into helping them good enough? What more could he have done? The rage was quickly followed by indignation, fear and sadness, in that order.

I knew Obi-Wan couldn't stay on Coruscant forever, but to know I'm a large part of the reason he's being sent out early?

Well, the guilt is just about to kill me.

So, I came here to Skywalker's apartment, hoping that I would see something in him that would validate my choice, to help me feel better about my decisions, to convince myself that Skywalker's status as a Sith Lord doesn't mean he's completely evil.

It's not working.

I've tried to mitigate the guilt, to control it by thinking about all the things I could have done to make things easier on Obi-Wan. But what more _could_ I have done? I know that I made it plain that I was not happy to be working for the Jedi, but I _did_ help them. I did as they asked and provided the list that they wanted. I mean, _they_ certainly don't know that I left out one crucial detail; that I already knew who the Sith Lord was. So, how could Obi-Wan have been punished for that?

Taking another deep breath, I release it wearily.

In my mind, rationally, I know that the Jedi's displeasure over my lack of cooperation is not the only reason Obi-Wan was sent out. After all, he's not called the Negotiator for nothing. But I know that it helped, that it was one of the key factors in assigning him a new mission.

Yet, I can't help but wonder: If I had told Obi-Wan about Skywalker, would Obi-Wan still be on Coruscant right now? But then again, what would have happened to Skywalker? Would he be imprisoned right now? Dead?

Each and every possibility makes my heart sink even further.

I have no way of knowing, either about Obi-Wan or Skywalker, but that doesn't stop the guilt that continues to grow inside of me: It's guilt over protecting Skywalker, over lying to Obi-Wan… guilt over allowing a man such as Skywalker to touch me.

It makes me struggle to accept my decision to keep Skywalker's identity a secret. It's as though by doing so, I've chosen him over everything my parents taught me about right and wrong, over everyone that I love and care about… over Obi-Wan.

Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I turn my head away from Skywalker.

My anger at Obi-Wan's actions have disappeared under the weight of my own decisions. And although I do not, at any point, believe that he was undeserving of my ire at what he did, I know it's way past time to move on because he is still my best friend.

And now… now I've put him in danger. I've allowed him to needlessly walk into a terrible situation, one from which he might not return.

And all for an infatuation.

Force, I think I'm going to be sick.

I shake my head and, ignoring the pain, I sit up, turning to glare at the source of all my problems.

This is Skywalker's fault for being so damn irresistible! And it's my fault too, for being such a _fucking_ idiot! I don't know what I was thinking coming here, but now that I have, I can't take it back. But what I _can_ do is get the hell out of here.

_Now. _

Throwing back the covers, I move to the side of his huge mattress, scanning the floor for my discarded items.

"Leaving so soon?" Skywalker asks with amusement, watching me as he lays across the bed in the nude, flaunting golden, rippling muscles and so completely comfortable in his own skin that it absolutely _infuriates_ me. No one so evil should look like that.

No one.

And I'm really starting to hate the way he keeps looking at me with those eyes. He think he's _so_ amazing with his incredible blue orbs that are as warm as liquid chocolate, literally screaming sex, finally making me understand where the phrase "bedroom eyes" came from.

Well, to hell with him and his beautiful eyes. I'm getting out of here.

And I know I sound like a spoiled, petulant child, but I don't give a damn.

All I care about is _leaving_.

"Yes, you ass, I'm leaving," I respond scathingly, bending over to search for my shoes.

"And why is that?" he asks lazily, stretching hugely, creating an incredible display of muscles and taut skin. Tearing my eyes away from the arresting sight, I continue to search for my undergarments, mindful of his eyes running over my nude body.

"Because I'm quite tired of you now," I respond primly, annoyance thick in my voice.

"I don't think you are," he responds cheerfully, not in the least bothered by my words, "I think you want more sex."

"Oh?" I say, sarcasm dripping through every word, "is that what you think?"

"Well, let me rephrase," he says silkily, his voice talking on a dangerous edge, "I _hope_ that this is merely a tantrum for sex."

A tantrum for sex? My anger rises swiftly and sharply, but before I can unleash a barrage of fury at him, he is in front of me, hands gently squeezing the back of my neck as he bends down to kiss me.

I inhale sharply, eyes closing immediately as I lose myself in his soft, skilled lips. Dear Force, but his lips are a weapon, a horrible weapon that turns my senses into mush…

I exhale into his mouth, cognizant of sound coming out, but unable to discern the words. If he would just stop _kissing_ me, then I'd be able to hear what the hell he was going on about…

I gasp as his big, warm, hands run down my naked body to grab me by my waist. Seconds later, I am sitting astride him on the bed, my chest pressed against his, my hair falling around us like a curtain as I maul his lips, lipping and tonguing them, all thoughts of leaving, exiting with the soaking of my pussy.

"I say that because _you_, Amidala," he murmurs against my neck, his breath warm and amazing, "are not going anywhere."

_Fuck you_ was my last coherent thought before all I could see, think about, or feel, was the touch of his hands.

#*#*#*#*#

I have to get away from this man.

I smile at Skywalker—Anakin—from where I sit on the couch, watching as he moves, shirtless, to the entrance of the veranda. When he reaches the middle, he stops and turns to the east, facing an unknown mecca, before spreading his legs and clasping his hands behind his back. Then he closes his eyes, obviously centering himself as he prepares to meditate. It's obviously a ritual that he has performed many times and that he feels comfortable doing something so intimate and personal it in front of me makes that _feeling_ return.

It's a feeling that's been growing since Friday night, when he took my virginity.

It feels like I'm being caged… like I'm being _trapped_.

If I thought that our first sex romp was mind blowing, spending all of Friday and now all of Saturday with him has only compounded that experience and made it worse.

_Much_ worse.

Skywalker is a whirlwind of emotion and energy. He is so vibrant and just so fucking _alive_ that he is overpowering me, consuming me. I can _feel_ it.

Everything about him appeals to me. I love the way he looks at me in the morning, as though I am the most beautiful woman he has ever seen; how he holds me close during the night, then wakes up and sends me a cold glare, daring me to comment on his inadvertent nighttime snuggling. I love the way he cooks and the way he exercises. Force, I love the way he moves across the room.

And it scares the shit out of me.

I thought it would be easy to handle him, to deal with the man I thought I had figured out. After all, the Anakin Skywalker that I dealt with in the past was supposed to a construct, a facade; merely a Sith Lord in disguise.

But I have learned that this is an untruth.

Anakin Skywalker is not a lie, nor is he a separate entity from Darth Vader. They are one and that's something that it's taken only a little over a day for me to realize, something that he does not yet understand. For while I can feel the aura of darkness surrounding him like a cloud, it is tempered by light, some goodness in him that I cannot fathom and that does not go away. It appears in him at random times, going as quickly as it comes.

And unlike what I thought at first, the two sides of him are not fighting one another, rather, they live in harmony, just as the light and dark in him are, each surfacing when they are called upon.

It makes him an extremely unpredictable and interesting person: It makes him unique and special and I cannot help but be intrigued by him. When it comes down to it, Anakin Skywalker is capable of great evil and I _know_ this, but when we are alone in his home like this, it is hard to remember that.

Right now, he's just a slightly evil smart ass who thinks I have a nice rack; a smart ass who makes a hell of a stack of homemade pancakes… an ass who, when he kisses me, makes my pussy explode and causes me to feel the burn of his passion all the way down to my toes.

Force, I'm in _so_ much trouble.

It's why I have to get away, why I have to leave as soon as possible.

I cannot allow this to happen. I need to clear my head, to evaluate this, to figure out a game plan to combat this new, irresistible person who has surfaced.

I need _space_.

And I know just where to get it. What better place to reaffirm your strength than at home?

And the timing couldn't be more perfect as Skywalker received a notice just this morning that the Senate talks have been pushed back to next Friday due to Chancellor Valorum's requisition of a special guest, one that he claims is essential to the peace talks and cannot be here until the end of the week. So, that means I have plenty of time to go there, relax, reload and return, ready to take Skywalker on.

All I have to do is get out of here, which is much easier said than done. He hasn't said as much, but he's made it quite clear that I should not try to leave. It's in the way he walks and talks, the way he watches me carefully every time I move around the apartment.

I need to distract him and then make my escape. I don't believe he's locked the doors in any special way because he's been watching me like a Nubian hawk since yesterday and haven't given me an opportunity to bolt. But right now, because I haven't attempted to leave or even mentioned it, his guard is down.

If I could just distract him, I could go to my apartment, then to my ship docked nearby and be on my way home in no time, leaving before Skywalker even knows what hit him.

"Ani, can you go into the bedroom and get me some covers? It's a bit drafty in here," I request with saccharine sweetness, smirking as he tenses at the sound of my new nickname for him. He absolutely _hates_ it, says it's not a proper name for a mighty Sith Lord like himself and that I was to stop at once or he'd choke me or something or other. But the reason he hates it is the very same reason I _love_ it… which is why I continue using it.

And I just really enjoy annoying him, too.

"I am meditating, Padmé," he says, not bothering to conceal his irritation, his back still to me.

At the sound of him using my first name, an inadvertent shiver goes down my spine and at this rate, I don't think I'll ever get used to him using it. He says it so _smoothly_, so sexily, that every time he utters it, what I _actually_ hear is, "Padmé, I think you look utterly delicious."

Blinking, I mentally smack myself.

I need to _focus._

"I can see that. Covers please," I say again, cheerfully, making a show of getting comfortable on the couch.

"Don't think that just because we've fucked that I'm pussy-whipped and that you can make me fetch like a fucking dog," he says acidly, in that way that he does when he feels as though my requests are threatening his manhood, finally turning around to face me.

Used to his bravado after only a couple days, I roll my eyes, thoroughly unimpressed with his bullshit, "Really? Seriously? This from the same guy who was just doggy fucking the shit out of me over the kitchen table not even a half hour ago?" I remind him with eyebrow raised, staring at him pointedly.

For a moment, he stares at me hostilely, his jaw twitching and I have to bite back my smile at the annoyance on his face. Finally, he glares at me and turns smartly, moving into the bedroom.

As soon as he disappears, I jump up and run to the door, grateful for the thick carpet muffling the frenzy of my movements.

Just as expected, the front door isn't locked and I simply go through into the hallway, hugging the walls as I move quickly to the elevator and to my own apartment.

Grabbing my ready-bag—a pack of supplies that I have on hand in case I ever need to make a quick escape—I exit out of the back way, quickly heading toward my private hangar bay where my H-Type Nubian yacht sits shiny, bright and ready for lift off.

Moments later I am inside, patching through to the appropriate avenues to leave.

It should not take long to get the necessary clearance as I pay 500 Republica a hefty fee to make sure I can leave when and as quickly as I wish.

Sure enough, in a matter of minutes, I have been cleared for take off and my ship is in the air. And it's happened none too soon, too, for seconds later, Skywalker is in the hangar, his chest heaving, eyes blazing with fury and the promise of retribution as he skids to a halt, taking in the sight of my rising yacht.

He says nothing as it ascends, just locks eyes with me, those cerulean orbs sending me a very clear message: I'm not going to get away with this.

A thrill of fear and excitement goes down my back at the look. To say he is not pleased would be the understatement of the century.

Biting back dual feelings of apprehension and glee, I smile at him sweetly and wave, expertly piloting my ship out of the hangar and into the air of Coruscant, heaving a sigh of relief when I finally break through the stratosphere into space, and that, without an outraged Sith Lord on my ass.

I grin hugely, unable to help but be smug. Did he really think that he had gotten me that easily? That he could control me in such a manner? Had my lightsaber demonstration meant _nothing_ to him?

I am not a prize nor am I a possession. I will not be trapped by him or anyone else.

Yes, I have decided to engage in this dance with him, but I will not be led by anyone. So let him stew on Coruscant until I get back.

Maybe in that time he'll understand something crucial: Padmé Amidala is not to be trifled with.

#*#*#*#*#

The long flight to Naboo has been uneventful, and though I am grateful, I'm surprised too because I fully expected Anakin to be on my ass by now. But I suppose I shouldn't be, though; few people have the means and the foresight to always has an escape ship ready like I do.

He's probably still on Coruscant trying to to procure a ship.

I shrug, brushing the thought away. Doesn't matter now; even if he does get a ship, he won't know where I'm going. And that's just the way I want it.

Nodding smartly, I sit back in my pilot's chair, finally allowing myself to relax.

I am only about thirty minutes from Naboo when I remember to com my parents about my arrival.

Turning to the bright, white and silver console, I punch in their frequency in a smooth, practiced motion. Moments later, the brown-haired, fair-skinned image of my mother, Jobal, appears on the screen, smiling brightly at me.

"Padmé!" she says happily, her eyes glowing brilliantly with joy, "I was wondering when you were finally going to call! I can't believe you didn't tell us!"

An eyebrow rises in confusion, "What?" I ask stupidly, a bit put off.

"Oh! Wait, I wasn't supposed to let you know I knew about the surprise," she continues cheerfully with unrepentant glee, "Oh, I'm so happy for you, dear! I can't wait to hear all about it!"

Okay, this is getting weird. What the heck is my mother talking about?

"Okay," I say slowly, brows creasing, "Mother, what are you talking about?"

She gives me a knowing look, "Nothing dear, absolutely nothing."

As my confusion deepens, so does my frown, "Mother, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know you don't, dear," Jobal says sassily, giving me a loving look, "and I want to hear every single detail! We can't wait for you to get here, so come right to the Lake House as soon as you land! We'll all be waiting for you."

"Yes, mother," I reply, sending her an uncertain smile, still without the slightest idea what she's talking about.

She nods and sends me a happy wink before the vid screen goes blank.

I stare at it for a minute, scowl still in place.

Okay, that was strange and more than a little disconcerting. And what was my mom saying about a surprise?

Sighing, I shrug; she must've been talking about my returning home so suddenly. It rarely ever happens, so when it does, it's an event. But still, that doesn't explain what else she said…

Well, I can't do anything about it now. I guess I'll see when I arrive home.

#*#*#*#*#

It takes longer than I would have liked to arrive at my family's Lake House.

Being Naboo's Senator, there are certain procedures and protocols I must go through before I can get some personal time, mainly an audience with the Queen. Since Queen Jamillia and I have an understanding, I was admitted to see her quite speedily, our meeting being even more brief. Yet despite the expediency, the mere pomp and circumstance that comes with being a politician still made the process unbearably long.

Then, finally, after fulfilling my duties, riding through the streets of Naboo, going to my family's dock and boarding a boat to sail here, I'm standing in front of the the Lake House, the Naberrie ancestral home.

For a moment, I remain in front of the door, a feeling of intense peace descending over me as I take a moment to absorb the beauty of Naboo. The grass is so green, the waterfalls so blue… it's so beautiful, a balm to my soul.

I really should come home more often. I've gotten so used to the hustle and bustle of Coruscant, that it's taken me up to this moment to actually see the beauty of my home planet. It used to be that I'd notice and I appreciate it as soon as I arrived. But now, it's taking me increasingly long periods of time to be able to relax and enjoy it all.

It disturbs me. I don't want to become so caught up in the hustle and bustle that I forget to live and appreciate the beauty around me. That it takes so long to do so now is… disconcerting.

"Padmé," a voice that sounds like my sister, Sola, calls excitedly from inside the house, "we know you're out there, we saw you dock! Come on in! We're all waiting!"

Rolling my eyes, I smile happily and enter, ready to greet my family. I've missed them so _much_ and now that I'm here, I'm going to make sure we all have a really good time together…

Placing my bag down, I immediately go to the kitchen, knowing that everyone will be there. And as I open my mouth to greet them happily, I freeze, my heart literally feeling as though it has stopped.

And as I stand there, it's like a black hole opens in my chest and all the peace that I absorbed, all the happiness and tranquility that floated around me, disappears in an instant, leaving me lightheaded with the intensity of it.

For sitting at the table, surrounded by my family, is _Anakin Skywalker_.

"Hello, Padmé," he says cheerfully as he turns in the chair, smirking at me, a dark, _evil_, gleam in his eyes, "I was wondering when you'd show up."

All I can do is stand in the doorway and stare at him, mouth agape, the urge to throw up imminent.

Skywalker is here, in my house.

Skywalker is here!

In.

My.

_House_.

_How_!?

_Fucking _how!

I continue to gape at them all, my eyes huge. I know I look silly, but I cannot _believe_ what I am seeing in front of me!

Skywalker, the _fucker_, _followed_ me to Naboo, and not only did he follow me, he fucking _beat_ me here!

And he came to my house! My _home_!

And then, that's when it hit me: This must've been what Mother was talking about! This was the _wonderful_ surprise!

That's when it hit me _again_.

Skywalker is in my house! My_ family_ house, surrounded by my _family_, all of whom—with the exception of my overly possessive father, bless him!—are smiling at me like crazed, happy loons!

I take a deep breath, trying to catch my breath and to prevent myself from wheezing.

Dear Force, an evil Sith Lord is in my house.

He _followed_ me and now Anakin Skywalker is in my house.

He is in my house.

Dear Force, _fuck my life_.

End of Chapter 20: Please review.

**Chapter 21: Guess Who's Coming To Dinner**: The Naberrie's have an unexpected guest.


	21. Guess Who's Coming To Dinner

**Chapter 21: Guess Who's Coming To Dinner**

**_D_**_arth _**_V_**_ader_

She looks like she's about to explode.

From my seat at the table, surrounded by her family, I watch her with amused, glinting eyes, enjoying her flaring nostrils, her tight jaw. Padmé is furious; angrier than I've ever seen her and I can tell by the look in her eyes that if her family hadn't been here, I'd be gone, blown away by the blaster she always has on her person, tucked snugly against the small of her back.

"Anakin," she says finally, through gritted teeth, her voice bright with false cheer, "what are you _doing_ here?"

I raise an eyebrow, my amusement quickly descending into annoyance: Padmé is definitely not pleased to see me for this would not, under any circumstances, be called her finest performance. She is so obviously riled that her family can feel the tension between us and is starting to become wary. Time to defuse the situation before things get ugly. She would _really_ become unreasonable if I were forced to silence her family.

"I'm sorry, Padmé," I say soothingly, contriteness heavy in my voice as I stand up and move to her, reaching to gently touch her cheek, "I know you didn't want your family to know about us yet, but I was so eager to meet them…" I allow my voice to trail off, "I may have jumped the blaster a bit."

Turning to face her so that her family can see nothing but my back, I smirk into her burning brown orbs, gratified by the rage I see there.

Good. I _want_ her to be angry.

Grabbing her hand, I apply just the faintest amount of pressure, telling her without words to play along.

Or else.

She glares at me for a moment longer before turning to her family with a much more _sincere_ fake smile on her face.

"Well, I guess there's nothing to be done about it now," she says, her smile so wide it looks like it'll break. "Mama, Daddy, Sola; this is my…" she pauses for a moment, and I almost hear her choke on the word, "…_boyfriend_, Anakin Skywalker."

I lift an eyebrow, scoffing at her description of me. Boyfriend; a juvenile and completely misrepresentative term, but I suppose telling her family what I truly am would most likely cause an extremely negative reaction.

More's the pity; the looks on their faces would have been highly amusing.

I turn back to them, a soft grin in place. "We've already been introduced, Padmé. You _were_ late after all. But still, it's wonderful to meet you all."

Looking much more relaxed now that Padmé is putting on a better performance, Jobal stands, her smile warm and welcoming, "It's a pleasure to meet you as well. We're all just so happy that Padmé has found someone! I can't believe she didn't tell us about the two of you."

"Yes," Ruwee, Padmé's father says, staring at me hard, "it is suspicious isn't it?"

I give him a apologetic grin, but inside, I frown. Her father seems a bit more perceptive and a lot less oblivious than I would like; could be a problem.

Obviously sensing my ire and the reason behind it, Padmé quickly intervenes.

"You know how I am, Daddy. I just wanted to make sure things worked out before taking such a huge step." She throws him a charming smile before wraping an arm around my waist. "Anakin's right, I was just being silly wanting to wait so long."

Ruwee makes a noncommittal sound under his voice, his eyes still watching me distrustfully despite the looks of exasperation his wife and oldest daughter are sending him.

I don't know if it's the rite of passage that every boyfriend goes through with the father or if he really is wary of the scene Padmé and I just had. Either way, I will have to keep an eye on him in the future.

"Well, we're very happy you're here," Sola says, sending her father another exasperated and loving look. "We have few guest bedrooms here and we would love for you to use one."

"No, I couldn't," I respond easily, a hesitant frown settling on my face.

"Of course you can," Jobal insists sternly, "we wouldn't have it any other way."

"Anakin," Padmé interrupts suddenly with a brittle smile, "can I see you outside, please?"

I give her an exasperated look, ignoring the way her hand is digging into mine, "Padmé, it's rude to interrupt your mother like that. Besides, I'm sure whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of your family."

"No, it _really_ can't."

With that, she grabs me and I allow myself to be dragged outside toward the back of the house, noticing the looks of confusion as I am taken away.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, she is twirling to face me, a hand nestling in the crook of her arms while the other squeezes the bridge of her nose.

I study her for a moment, quite enjoying her agitation; let her experience some of the frustration I did as I watched her fly away from Coruscant.

"What the hell were you thinking coming here?" she asks quietly, finally, after a long moment, her arms falling down to her sides. "Where do you get the _nerve?_"

"Where do I get the nerve? That's amusing coming from you. After all, stealing out like a thief after you conned me into fetching you a blanket doesn't take nerve at all," I answer smoothly, allowing a hint of my previous anger at her to color my words.

"So, I was a prisoner in your apartment? I wasn't allowed to leave?" she shoots back furiously.

"I think we both know the answer to that question, Padmé, considering the means you used to do so," I say cryptically, taking a moment to study the landscape. It's no wonder Naboo is such an attraction; it's quite beautiful here with its green grass and blue waters, high mountains and clean air. Perhaps I will visit this place again when I become Emperor.

"Leave this place," she replies tersely, "now."

"That's not going to happen," I respond, an eyebrow raising, less than amused by her gall.

She takes a deep breath, probably in an effort to remain patient. "I'm here to spend time with my family and I can't do that with you, an evil _git_, breathing down my neck."

"Your time here will be as pleasant as you want it to be," I reply coldly, folding my arms as I lean against a sand colored pillar. "Come now, Padmé, you're not _really_ all that surprised are you? You must've known what the consequences of running away from me would be. I told you; you're mine. Apparently, you needed to be reminded of that fact and all that it implies."

She is silent, merely staring at me, hate and anger shining in her eyes.

"If you do anything to harm my family…" her voice trails off but her words are clear. And in that moment, she is so raw… so _passionate_ that it's _turning me on_.

I hope her family has thick walls, because we're going to fuck _so_ good tonight.

Nevertheless, she has to understand something: I am a Sith Lord; I make threats, I don't respond to them.

Not at all.

The genial smile falls from my face and I move toward her, leaning forward until we're an inch apart, all traces of humor and amusement gone.

"I think you forget to whom you speak, Amidala," I whisper softly, dangerously, taking a moment to breath in her scent, "You would do well to remember before you _ever_ threaten me again."

"And you seem to think," she responds in kind, eyes blazing, "that I am fucking_ scared_ of you. If you harm so much as a_ hair_ on any one of my family or friends' heads, I will fucking _kill_ you."

My nostrils flare and I raise a hand, allowing the Force to wrap around her throat. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open in surprise as her hands immediately rise. This is the first time I've used the Force around her, _on_ her; if nothing confirms my identity, if nothing emphasizes to her just who I am, then _this_ does.

It always does.

"You think because I indulge your petty whims that I am to be trifled with. I am not," I murmur carefully, "I can and _will_ kill you in an instant, without a thought."

She glares at me, her neck stiff, her lips curled.

"And you think," she croaks, teeth gritted, "that just because I don't have the Force, that I'm not _just as dangerous as you_."

A genuine smile stretches my mouth as I suddenly feel the ominous press of steel against my abdomen. Her hands didn't rise to go to her throat like most of my victims, no, they rose to go to her blaster.

I have to admit, I'm impressed.

Very impressed indeed.

"Seem as though we're at a impasse, Padmé," I say softly, increasing the pressure on her throat.

"No, we're not," she answers, her voice straining, no sign of fear in her eyes although I know it's getting hard for her to breath, "you promise you won't harm my family and I promise that I won't blow a hole through your belly."

I laugh gently even as I hear the click of her blaster activating, feel it thrumming against my stomach.

"How do you know that I won't lie? How can you trust my promise?" I ask, curious.

"Because you need me to; I have to trust you in order to keep quiet about who you are. And because I know you wouldn't lie to me; not about this. Not right now," she answers immediately, without hesitation, her eyes boring into me.

I stare at her for a moment, a bit surprised by her conviction. She's seems so sure I won't lie to her: How foolish. She clearly doesn't realize that lying and scheming is what Sith Lords do. But I suppose I can humor her this time. I won't harm her family… for now.

"Very well," I say, releasing the Force Choke, "your family is safe for the duration of this trip. Satisfied?"

Deactivating and returning her weapon to its place, she moves to massage her throat, once again turning a hateful glare on me, obviously angry at the phrasing of my statement, "No, I'm not. But it'll do."

Her jaw tense, she stares at me, her eyes filled with an emotion that I cannot name, "You choked me," she says quietly, her body tense.

My eyebrows twitch, "Yes I did," I respond evenly.

She gazes at me for a moment longer, that same indescribable emotion on her face, before turning and storming back into the house, leaving me standing outside.

"Padmé," I call after her sweetly, "I hope this doesn't damage our relationship."

The only answer I get is the decisive slam of the door.

I stand there for a moment, contemplative, torn between annoyance, amusement and confusion.

Just when I think that Padmé Amidala cannot surprise me any more, she somehow manages it.

She should have been afraid of me when I was Force Choking her, but she wasn't. Her concern for her family was so great that she overcame any fear she felt to retaliate in an effort to save her family from harm.

_Very_ intriguing.

It's not the first time I have put someone's family in jeopardy for my own ends, but this is the first time someone has been able to effectively protect them. Padmé is such a puzzle, but one that I am so looking forward to piecing together.

And to think I had come here ready to punish her.

Force, I was so incredibly angry when she escaped me, that, if I had run into anyone as I sprinted down the halls, I would have killed them out of frustration alone. I knew before I had even gotten to her hangar that I would be too late to stop her and, sure enough, I arrived just in time to see her ship take off.

Shaking my head, I continue to gaze at the beauty of Naboo before me.

I know that she thought she was safe as she flew away from Coruscant; she couldn't have known that I had long since had a tracking beacon placed on her ship; couldn't have known that as a Sith Lord, being able to leave at a moment's notice is a necessity, that I'm always travel ready.

Yet her lack of wisdom in running away from me can be forgiven as she has never met another like me, for if she had known that her actions would lead me straight to her family then we would be in 500 Republica even now.

But now that she knows; now that she is aware of my ability to move when needed and will not make that mistake again.

Finally, I push myself off the pillar and I start after her. The time that we will spend with her family is going to be _quite_ interesting. I'll be able to observe Padmé with people that she cares deeply about; it'll be intriguing to watch her in her native environment. But I will not fall into the trap of complacency, Padmé has retreated quietly for the moment, but I have no qualms that this war is over.

Not by a long shot.

She will retaliate, seek to expel me from the presence of her loved ones. But, unlike on Coruscant, her efforts are going to have to be much more delicate, much more discreet.

And I'm excited. Playing with Padmé has never been easy, and this time will be even less so.

But I have to say; I am looking forward to the challenge.

End of Chapter 21: Please review

**Chapter 22: A Different Approach**: A different point of view

A/N: Thank you to all the people who reviewed last chapter: You guys are awesome:

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	22. A Different Approach

**Chapter 22: A Different Approach**

**_P_**_admé _**_A_**_midala_

I should have killed him.

The words echo in my head, a mantra that won't stop.

I should have _killed_ him.

The world is blurred as I re-enter the Lake House, and I angrily wipe at the unwanted tears escaping from my eyes, even as my mind speeds at a dizzying pace, horrified at what just happened.

_I should have killed him_.

As soon as I stepped foot into my ancestral home and saw that monster sitting at the table with the people I care about most in the universe, I should have pulled my blaster and put a hole through him, damn the consequences.

I _really_ should have killed Anakin Skywalker.

As I near the kitchen where my family still waits, I pause, trying in vain to pull myself together.

I deserve this: Everything that is happening now; I deserve it. This is what I get for not informing Obi-Wan of Anakin Skywalker's identity the moment I found out. This is what happens when you try to take the law into your own hands, when you ignore all that you were taught in favor of a childish infatuation.

I deserve to be in this situation… in this danger, but my family _doesn't_.

I take a deep breath and go to the wall, allowing it to hold me up because I, quite simply, cannot stand under my own strength.

Because he… he…

He _choked_ me.

Anakin Skywalker _choked _me…

With the Force…

Then he_ threatened_ my family.

My family…

He… He…

I shake my head, unable to wrap my mind around it all, to reconcile the monster that is outside with Anakin Skywalker; the snarky, admittedly dangerous, but intriguing senator.

Closing my eyes, I continue to take deep breaths, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart.

I thought I had seen this Darth Vader, thought he had made an appearance before, that I had successfully confronted him and won. But it seems I was very much mistaken.

_Very_ much so.

And that fact seems so obvious now that it's practically laughable. Or it would be if I hadn't realized that I had willingly shaken hands with the devil and now he is calling an account.

Opening my eyes, I stare at a random spot on the far wall, cognizant that my family is waiting for me to make a reappearance, knowing that Darth Vader is probably close behind me.

I know I should move, to go and assuage their surely growing anxiety, but I need a moment… just a _moment_.

Because I cannot believe that I allowed this man to touch me, to take my virginity… this being who found it so easy to choke me even after _everything_…

My hand involuntary goes to my neck, gently rubbing the skin there.

Force, when I felt that invisible hand tighten around my windpipe… It had taken everything in me not to claw at my throat in sheer panic: Only my training at the Order of Sanctuary had allowed me to think around the terror rising inside of me like a tidal wave, to go for my blaster instead of falling to pieces.

And it was then, after he released me and I looked up on him standing so calmly with nary of inkling of the great crime that he committed against me, that it _truly_ hit me: Anakin Skywalker is a _Sith Lord._

It is a fact I can no longer deny.

It was so easy to do before, what with me never seeing him use the Force or doing any evil Jedi-like acts, or doinh anything other than manipulate which is part and parcel of being a senator. Without visual confirmation or proof of his claims, a part of me did not want to believe it was true, even thought all signs said it was a true: A tribute to the fallacy of my humanity to deny what is right in front of me.

But now, I cannot deny it.

Not after that.

Eyes widening, I start as I hear the swish of the back door.

He's coming.

I straighten and paste the customary scowl on my face. I cannot allow him to see how much he has shaken me. I _cannot._ The lives of my loved one depends on my strength, on how good an act I can put on. It wouldn't be the first time I've had to do this and it probably won't be the last, but I have never dealt with higher stakes.

I _will not_ allow myself to fear him; I am stronger than that. And furthermore, if I did, he would know. And that could mean the end.

Ignoring the increase in my heart rate as he strides confidently toward me, I spare him nary a glance as I continue back into the kitchen where my family is. They look up as we walk in, my dad looking affronted, my sister, slightly confused and my mother, pensive, which is _not_ a good thing.

"Okay, guys," I say clapping my hands and throwing them a warm smile, not allowing them to comment on our absence, "what are our plan for this evening?"

My mother looks at me closely for a moment before returning my smile, "Well, Sola has to take the girls to the market; they have a school play at the end of the week and need a few costumes. Since they'll be gone, I thought that you could help me with dinner, that is if you're not too tired?"

Believe it or not, cooking dinner sounds absolutely heavenly right now; a little normalcy is just what I need, even if it means putting on an apron.

"That sounds great, Mom," I respond sincerely with a nod, happy that Sola and the girls, at least, will be out of the fire for a while.

"Don't worry, Padmé, you won't be here with mom alone for long," Sola says teasingly, "the girls and I will be back soon to eat."

I roll my eyes, a small smile on my lips, "I'm sure you will," I reply in kind, crossing my arms.

"Well," Ruwee interrupts loudly, drawing every eye, "I think Anakin and I should do a little male bonding. I thought perhaps I could show him my blaster collection..."

"Oh, Daddy, no!" I say, my hand rising to cover my face in loving exasperation. I always knew this moment would come, the time when my father would attempt to intimidate my potential mate, even anticipated it unlike most girls and it pains me more than a little that it's happening with the one man who has no need to fear my father's rather extensive weapons collection. If nothing else, I'm more worried about my father.

"Ruwee!" Jobal exclaims in amusement, her eyes twinkling, "stop it! We're not trying to scare him! And the overprotective father role is getting a bit old, isn't it?"

"It never gets old," Ruwee declares confidently, loftily, waving a dismissive hand.

"Well, at least now I can welcome you to the family, Anakin," Sola speaks up, her eyes bright with laughter. "You know you're apart when Daddy shows you how straight and true his stingbeam shoots. When Darred, my husband, was courting me, he was sure that Daddy was stalking and trying to kill him."

"I neither confirm nor deny that," Ruwee declares, smirking. "But he should have kept his paws off my daughter."

"Daddy!" Sola moans in horrified delight, eyes wide with mirth, while my mother bursts out laughter and I cover my mouth to hide my own. Even Skywalker looks reluctantly amused.

I glance at him, smirking inwardly; he should know this is only the beginning; my father truly gets crazier with age.

"And Anakin here," Ruwee continues, glaring unabashedly at Skywalker. "is going to be perfectly safe… as long as he understands the importance of keeping his hands to himself."

I turn to see how Skywalker is responding to my father's less than veiled threat and what I see nearly makes me want to blow him away. His face is the perfect blend of alarm and humor: his eyebrows are in his forehead and eyes are wide eyes, all topped with slightly smiling mouth. He is such a brilliant actor that it's scary, making my poor family none the wiser to his true nature; but how are they to know he is a shark acting the part of a mouse? Force, if he hadn't given me his promise not to harm my family for the duration of this trip, I would have been ended it all right then.

"I'd love to look at your blaster collection, Mr. Naberrie," he responds easily, his face showing only faint apprehension.

"We'll see about, young man," Ruwee replies slyly, standing up and indicating that Skywalker follow him, "we'll see about that."

Skywalker laughs and whatever he says next is muffled as they move out of the door.

"Well, I'd better get going," Sola says, rising as well, "I have to contact Darred, pick up the girls and get their dresses and accessories before dinner."

Smiling, we exhange words of farewell before my sister is out the door.

Finally, my mother and I are alone.

She turns to me, a loving smile on her face, "Finally! We're alone. Now, I can greet you properly."

Then, her arms are around me and her cheek against mine.

And dear Force, she smells like home and comfort, safety and love. Unexpectedly, my eyes feel with tears as her warm arms tighten, holding me close. How long has it been since my mother held me like this?

Too long, much too long.

My arms wrap around her and I return her hug, my body shaking as I bury my face into the crook of her shoulder, trying to hold in the emotion threatening to overtake me, sniffing as unwelcome tears fall from my eyes.

This… this is what I need: Silent support and comfort; someone to hold me without asking questions I can't answer, someone who I know won't betray me.

I really just needed my mom.

"There, there," she murmurs, stroking my hair. After a moment, she pulls away, her hand smoothing the wetness from my cheeks. "It's alright now, you're home: You're safe."

I nod, sorrow flooding me again: If only she knew how wrong she was. If only she knew what I had done…

"Come now," she says tenderly, running a thumb over my cheek, "let's begin dinner."

I nod, pulling away and wiping my face with my sleeve. I smile sheepishly at her, a little embarrassed at my loss of control, but strangely, feeling marginally better already. Perhaps all I needed was a good cry; a simple release of emotion.

"Now, I was thinking about making a classic Nubian dish," my mother begins, going to a cupboard, "perhaps some _cioya_ with _gana_ balls and _ita_ for desert.

My eyes widen and I nod my head vigorously, "Yes!" I respond immediately, enthusiastically, to which she laughs.

_Cioya_ is heavily seasoned codfish baked with onions, smothered in butter and served with savory potatoes. _Gana_ bread is soft, doughy and stuffed with various bits of grilled meats and vegetables. _Ita _is different types of fruit stuffed into a a large, edible brown cone; a perfect way to round out a delicious meal.

Force! Just thinking about it makes my mouth water…

It's at that moment that my stomach chooses to rumble.

Jobal looks at me with raised eyebrows and I flush, rubbing my tummy. I can't help how I react to her words! I love food and I'm_ starving_.

"Thankfully, we don't have that much to do," Jobal says, grabbing an apron and handing one to me. "The _cioya_ was prepared this morning and only needs to go in the oven. The _gana_ is what'll take the most time. So, I'll do that while you prepare the _ita_."

I nod with a smile and move to retrieve the fresh, brown, baked cones on the counter. Moments later, I am moving through the back of the house to the garden, handwoven basket in hand. I smile softly when I arrive, my body immediately relaxing as I take in the sight.

There are three parts to our garden: The fruits, the vegetables and the flowers. They are all lined in a row, tall trees lining the way, making the whole thing look much like a vineyard. It's a beautiful and peaceful place to be, especially with the waterfalls that Naboo is so famous for serving as the perfect backdrop.

As I stroll through the patches looking for the ripest, most succulent picks, I ponder my earlier breakdown.

Anakin Skywalker must mean more to me than I had previously thought for his actions to elicit such a response from me. Never had I acted in a manner toward anyone but my family.

It doesn't bode well, and I refuse to consider the implications of it. Rather, I should be thinking about how I'm going to tell Obi-Wan that I intentionally hid the identity of the Sith Lord away from him. That is _not_ going to be a pleasant conversation.

Shaking my head, I push thoughts of Obi-Wan away. My disclosure of Skywalker's identity will have to wait until Obi-Wan returns from his mission; I don't trust any of the other Jedi enough to believe that they'll handle the situation in a way that gives Skywalker a fair trial. If their past actions are any indication; they're much more likely to handle it "in-house" and there's no way in hell I'd let that happen.

Because despite everything, I want him to have a chance. It's possible, I think, that he can be helped. As far as I know, Anakin Skywalker hasn't done anything worthy of imprisonment or jail. If that is the case then technically, they have absolutely no right to arrest him. After all, merely believing differently from the Jedi is not grounds for detention.

So, perhaps I should wait, to hold the information until he does something evil; then, the Jedi'll be able to arrest him. But that might not be a good idea. What if his evil deed costs lives? What if he's _already_ doing evil now and I just haven't seen it, like I hadn't seen Darth Vader before now? And what if the Jedi have the means to make sure that he _doesn't _do anything evil but I'm preventing that by not telling them? Should I still wait, then, or should I go ahead and inform Obi-Wan when he returns?

Letting out a noise of frustration, I grab my head with both hands.

It had seemed so clear before when I was angry—which I still am—, but now…

Now, the right thing to do is once again about about as clear as mud.

Sighing, I grab my fruit filled basket and trudge back to the kitchen.

I give Jobal a wan smile as I re-enter. Even though I am no closer to making a decision now then I was before, that small time to think, to contemplate my situation has made me steadier and much more prepared to deal with the challenges ahead.

It seems that all I really _did_ need was a moment to process it all. Now, though, I'm ready. As long as there no more surprises, I think I'll be okay. It shouldn't be a problem as I really can't imagine anything being quite as shocking as Anakin Skywalker.

My mother and I work for a while in companionable silence and I am almost finished stuffing the cones when Jobal speaks.

"So, now that you're a little calmer," my mom says without preamble, her attention seemingly focused on kneading the soft dough in front of her, "are you going to tell me who the hell followed you into my house?"

It takes me a moment to register her words and as soon as I do, I whirl to face her; mouth dropping open and eyes wide as saucers. Realizing that I'm staring like a fool, I try to conceal my reaction, but I can tell by the look on her face that I'm too late. It doesn't stop me from trying to deny it, though.

"Mom, I really don't know what you're talking about," I began, trying my best to hold her gaze and not look away in surprise and apprehension.

"I think you do, Padmé," she replies shrewdly, folding her arms across her chest, "who _is_ that man? Because I seriously doubt he's quite who you say he is."

For a moment, all I can do is stare at her. Did I really just say that there was nothing more shocking than Anakin Skywalker? How about my mom seeing through me like a child sees through glass at the Theed National Zoo and Aquarium?

Just… _fuck _my life _and_ the goddamn universe too because it seems to have nothing better to do than pick on me.

Jobal stares at me hard, and finally, after a long moment, I look away, my eyes returning to the _ita_, staring at it like it holds the secrets of the universe.

"I don't understand how you can…" I allow the words to drift off, unable to voice them. How the hell did my mother…? Had Skywalker and I really been so _obvious _before?

"Padmé," she interrupts my thoughts, moving to me and grabbing my chin, gently forcing me to look at her, "Not only was I a politician long before you were born, but I birthed you, washed you and clothed you. I've told you before and I'll tell you again. I am your mother; there is very little about you that I do not know, that I cannot see. And I can see quite clearly that you were more than just unhappy that Anakin Skywalker was here; you were _furious…_ and more than a little scared. Now who is that man?"

"But how…? You…? Daddy…?" I start, my mind blown, still not quite able to form a coherent thought.

"Your father has always been too honest for his own good and definitely too veracious for politics despite his stint as President of the Refugee Relief Movement," Jobal interrupts steadily, her tone gentle as she moves to continue preparing our meal, "he wears his heart on his sleeve and accepts people at face value way more than he probably should. It's why he's such a good person… and why politics was so hard for him. Now, stop stalling and tell me who that man is."

Oh,_ shit_. What do I do now? What do I say? I suppose there's nothing I _can_ say but the truth because although there are some things that I cannot tell them, I made a vow, long ago, not to lie to my family about those things that they should know.

And my mother has a right to know who is in her house.

"He's a very dangerous man…" I say finally, mouth pinched, "and I don't want him here."

Jobal is silent for a moment before speaking, "And he won't leave?"

I shake my head. "No," I reply shortly, turning back to the _ita_, "he won't."

We work in silence, and my mind is suspiciously calm as I finish stuffing the cones.

"He likes you," my mother says finally, breaking into the silence.

"No, he doesn't," I respond immediately, voice shaper than it probably should be. "He thinks I'm his possession, that I belong to him and he became angry when I left, so he followed me."

"So," my mother repeats, drawing the word out, a strange amusement in her voice, "he likes you."

Frowning I turn to her, pushing the _ita_ aside.

"He _doesn't_ like me, Mom," I reply harshly. "If he did he wouldn't have…" I shake my head, cutting the words off.

But my mother is watching me closely and I know that she understands what I can't say; she doesn't know how, but she knows that Anakin hurt me. And it's true: Skywalker injured much more than my throat when he choked me and now…

Now, I'm not sure I want him anymore.

"Padmé, I know this may come as a shock to you, but if Anakin Skywalker is the kind of man I think he is, then you're been going about this whole thing the wrong way," my mom says, placing a finished_ gana_ ball on the tray and moving to prepare another.

My frown deepens. "The wrong way? What do you mean?"

"Well, my guess is you're taking the mean, hard, you-don't-intimidate-me approach and while that is necessary in some situations, you have to balance it out with the _real you_."

I stare at her, confusion radiating off me in waves.

"You think that you have to be hard to _handle_ him," Jobal continues, placing particular emphasis on the word. "But what you don't realize is that he responds to the way you act, equal and opposite reactions and all of that. And I don't think that's the way to reach him. He needs gentleness, love, not aggression."

Noticing my flabbergasted, totally stunned expression, she shoots me a look of loving exasperation. "Have you ever looked at him, Padmé? I mean, _really l_ooked at him? That boy is hurting, my love. He covers it well, heck, he probably doesn't even know it himself, but you can see it in the way he holds himself aloof, in the way that his smile never quite reaches his eyes. And did you see the way he was looking at us as we interacted? That is the look of a boy who has never ever had a family and has no idea how to respond to it, so he just _doesn't_."

"What do you keep calling him a _boy_?" I ask in frustration, so completely thrown by her words that I seize the least important thing she says and precede to blow it out of proportion.

"Because he _is_, Padmé," Jobal responds calmly, meticulously stuffing the gana dough with grilled shaak meat and green and red peppers, "he is much younger than you, by my estimate, I'd say about four or five years. And for him to act like this at his age, to be so dangerous when he's only been alive for a short time? It means Anakin Skywalker has been through hell. So be _different_. Don't put him through yet_ more_ hell. What he needs is peace and _kindness_. If you give him that, if you show him the soft, warm, loving Padmé that you were before the Trade Federation's occupation, I think that you will see a different side of him, the one that you really want."

"But Mom," I reply unsteadily, my head shaking in denial, "you don't know who he _is_, the things he's capable of."

"But I know _you_, Padmé Naberrie," she responds softly, looking at me seriously, "and I know what _you_ are capable of. Anakin Skywalker can hardly be worse."

My mouth drops and I stare at her shocked, more than a little hurt and just… _flattened_. Force… how could I not have noticed how incredible my mom is? Have I been so wrapped up in my own problems that I don't know my own family anymore?

That Jobal sees me, the real me; the horrible, ruthless woman I can be is more unsettling and _terrifying_ than I can possibly expressbecause despite the things I know they've heard about me, I've always been careful to keep that side of myself from my family.

Now, the fact that my mother is well aware, despite my efforts to the contrary, is a rude wake up call, but one that she obviously thinks I need.

"Mom," I began softly, my eyes filling with moisture yet again, not quite sure what to say. To have to acknowledge that your mother knows that you have great potential to be a monster is hard to handle, _extremely_ hard to handle and I admit, I'm not doing a good job of it.

"It's _okay_, Padmé," she says, placing the last of the _gana_ bread on the cooking sheet and moving to me, wrapping her arms around me to hug me tightly, "it's okay. I understand the forces that have made you who you are and it is only your incredible strength that made you so for you surely would have perished if it had been otherwise. So I love, no, I absolutely _adore_ the woman that you are."

I sniff pathetically, feeling like a little girl as I look into my mother's eyes, eyes that are so similar to the ones I see every time I look in the mirror.

"But you have to realize that you have not dealt with happened to you during the occupation and have subsequently lashed out at any and everybody, even in those times when you should have been kind and understanding. But now? Now you have a chance to change that. Open up to him, share with him what happened to you and maybe, just maybe, he'll open up to you too."

I stare at her, eyes wide and moist, my mind trying to absorb all that she has said.

Jobal smiles and leans forward to kiss me on my forehead. "Just think about it, my love. And try it; I think you'll be surprised at the result. And don't continue to question and second guest yourself; I've always trusted your instincts about people and you should too. Show him kindness, open up to him, show him the loving side of you and watch your relationship change. Now if you _do_ open up and nothing _does_ changes, then act as you see fit. I know what whatever you choose to do will be the right thing."

And with that, she kisses me on the cheek and walks out, leaving a confused and ponderous daughter in her wake.

#*#*#*#*#*

I sit in my room and think, staring at the yellow walls of my youth in silence.

My mother is… incredible and wise and completely, _absolutely_ right.

Her words… all of them make sure terrible _sense _that I cannot believe I did not see it before.

Ever since meeting Anakin Skywalker I have been on the offensive, seeking to outmaneuver, outsmart, out talk, out _do_ him at every turn. And yes, he has enjoyed it; loving my snarkiness and the times I argue with him just for argument's sake, but have I actually ever been _kind _to him? More than that, have I ever asked him about himself? About his life?

And my mother pointed out something else that I had never quite thought about until now. Anakin is young; very young, being a whole five years younger than me. He said he was a slave and although the revelation was shocking and revolting to me at the time, it had since faded from my memory as though it never was. Now, thinking on it, I simply can't believe that I allowed the knowledge to pass away so quickly. And now that I'm aware of my neglect, I'm practically bursting with questions: How did he become a slave? Who was his owner? Does he have any family? Is that how he became _this_?

It makes me want to slap myself silly. How could I have not asked myself the simplest of questions? How could I have failed to do with him what I would have done for all the other wounded, difficult people I helped in my youth? But I know the answer to that and it's twofold: First, I am not that person anymore. The Padmé who would have instantly sought to heal is nowhere in sight; I reacted the way the _new_ me does; aggressively. Secondly, it's because Skywalker always seems so _in control_, so put together. But that's a lie and that was never made more clear to me then by his reaction to choking me: When he saw how upset I was, he didn't seem to understand it, to recognize it for what it was…

And any two bit _idiot_ would be able to see and understand why I was upset.

But Skywalker_ hadn't_.

And while he is many things, idiot is not one of them.

It makes the likelihood of my mother being correct ridiculously high. So, I _do _need to approach this situation with Anakin Skywalker differently. But how do I get in touch with the person I once was? I'm so used to fighting that I don't know if I can be soft, gentle and loving anymore.

But I have never backed down from a challenge. And a challenge this would indeed be, for letting Skywalker in, telling him about my ordeal, would require me to lower my walls. Something that I haven't done it years.

And not just lowering my walls, doing it for a _Sith Lord._ Someone who could really use the information to hurt me…

It's a risk, an incredible, huge, potentially career ending risk.

But if doing so means seeing the Anakin Skywalker that I've been craving, to see that different side to him that my mother is sure exists, then I'll do it.

For the both of us.

End of Chapter 22: **Please review, guys.**

**Chapter 23: What A Man Want**s: Contemplating the future

A/N1: Sorry for the short chapter last update, hope this makes up for it. Also, let me correct a horrible injustice: It wasn't until _after_ I updated that I realized I didn't drown you guys in cookies and milks for helping me reach my 1,000 review goal! This was a horrendous oversight and I am really, very sorry: Thank you to all those who contributed to my dream. I love you guys bunches: You are awesome and for it, I will try my very best to provide quicker updates.

A/N2: If you can't tell by this chapter, I'm super close to my mom and I thought that having Padmé receive some advice and experience from someone older and wiser would be good for her and who better than her mom?


	23. What A Man Wants

**Chapter 23: What A Man Wants**

**_D_**_arth _**_V_**_ader_

The walk to Ruwee Naberrie's blaster shack is quiet.

The sun is setting, washing the sky in an appealing shade of orange, pink and purple. A herd of shaak grazes in the distance and the soft hum of the surrounding waterfalls provides a satisfying musical back drop.

If I didn't have to deal with this _druk, _then it would be an ideal place to meditate on the Force. It'll be something I look into later because for now, I have to endure this rite of passage with grace. Though annoying, it's a small price to pay to keep Amidala in my sights, to impress upon her just how seriously she should take my ownership. I just hope this "talk" doesn't take too long; if it does, I can't be held responsible for my actions.

In no time at all, we are at the shack, which is a misnomer as it's more a small house than anything.

I fold my arms as he unlocks the door. Upon entering, I am pleasantly surprised: It's much nicer than I expected.

There are white panels on all the walls with a digital numerical device mounted next to one of them, indicating a code is needed to actually access the weapons, making the place quite secure. Other than that, it looks like a regular man cave with plush maroon carpet, warm cream walls, comfortable looking couches, a huge holovid player, a fireplace and a full bar, all offset by soft lights giving it a comfortable feel.

Nice. I might create one of these when I become Emperor.

"You know," Ruwee remarks, as he makes his way to a well-used forest green recliner near the fireplace, "there used to be a time on this planet when I didn't have to lock my doors at all. But this Galactic War has changed things. With any war comes the destruction of lives, the decimation of homes and it's making people desperate, so much so that they ignore their sense of morality and do what they have to do to feed their families… which means stealing from others. It's something I hope changes soon for all of our sakes. Nothing good can come from prolonging this type of event on such a tremendous scale."

I nod respectfully, while inwardly, I roll my eyes. He didn't bring me here to talk about the war did he? Because I know _much_ more about it than he or anybody could possibly realize… especially considering I'm the one pulling all of the strings. I really hope Ruwee Naberrie is not going to be one of _those_ old men: The type that always has a caveat for any and everything.

That would be a fate worse than death.

"But you didn't come here to hear me go on and on about a war you, as a senator, are well acquainted with," he continues matter-of-factly, eyeing me, "this is about me deciding if you're good enough for my daughter and whether or not I need to show you just how amazing a shot I am."

I allow myself a nervous chuckle at this: Truly Ruwee Naberrie is an amusing man.

"So, Anakin Skywalker. Tell me about yourself," Amidala's father states as he settles into his chair, looking at me expectantly.

I nod, forcing a smile on my lips to mask my annoyance.

"Well," I begin pragmatically, "my name is Anakin Skywalker and I'm from the Outer Rim. I became a senator of the Galactic Republic for the newly re-instated Arkanis section a few months ago. I like reading, writing and meditating. Also, I think your daughter is a fine woman…"

As I drone on, I smirk inwardly as I see his enraptured face, the way he nods at my lists of accomplishments. Force, this is just too easy. Amidala must've gotten her political savvy from her mother because her father is _utterly_ clueless.

I am in the middle of speaking on my plans in the senate when Ruwee speaks.

"You know, I used to be like you," Ruwee interrupts me suddenly with a chuckle, shaking his head, "completely full of gundark druk."

My head tilts forward and eyebrows rises sharply. Okay… what the kriff just happened? And him, be like me? I _highly_ doubt that.

"What do you mean, sir?" I ask carefully, stilling in my seat, staring at him hard.

"I mean, I wasn't always this family man who sits before you now. I used to be the worst of cutthroat politicians… just like I know you to be."

I didn't think my eyebrows could go any higher, but they manage it.

He smirks at my expression, nodding his head knowingly.

"It's hard to fool a man who's survived politics, son; you'll learn that with time. You'll also learn that power and youth can't do everything; there are some things that only come with experience and I'm old enough and experienced enough to know that you're not quite who or what you appear to be."

He tilts his head at me, watching me closely, "You actually remind me of myself, how I used to be once upon a time, which is why I can sense that you are at a momentous time in your life, a time where you need to decide what path you want to follow."

I open my mouth to respond, but he holds up a hand. "You'll have your chance to talk, Anakin," he says, folding his arms. "But there's a story you need to hear first."

We sit for a moment in silence, my eyes narrowed, brows pulled together and his forehead furrowed in concentration.

Finally, he relaxes, looks at me and speaks. "Naboo has always been different from others star systems and you can see that every time you go to the store, the doctor's office, and the Nubian senate. On this planet, our children are put on the fast track to their careers very early. It's why we have such young professionals and such a low crime rate: Children are not allowed to be idle. They know from a young age what they want to do and we make sure that they achieve it, resulting in a planet wherein ninety-six percent of its citizens are highly productive members of society."

"Me, though? I was more ambitious than most at twelve years of age and I had a plan: I wanted to become King of Naboo and I was determined to do whatever it cost to achieve it. At that time, Naboo had had a long line of Queens, nearly 400 years worth, with no kings ascending the throne. I wanted to be that King, one that would bring Naboo into a new era of prosperity."

He pauses and shakes his head. "I did things that I am not proud of. I sabotaged careers, created scandals, ruined lives… and all because I kept telling myself that, in the end, my rule would benefit the whole planet. I was on a slippery slope to hell, Anakin and I was going there fast."

He stops again, but this time, a smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"But then, something amazing happened and I'll never forget it. It was my day off from volunteering for the Refugee Relief Movement—I had to keep up appearances, after all—and I had gone to see my mother, to check on her and make sure she was well. When I arrived, I found her and her close friend, Ryoo Thule, sitting in the garden, both of them waiting for me. As soon as I saw them, I knew they were up to something."

"Sure enough, it didn't take long before they were both began _subtly_ gushing over Ryoo's daughter, about how wonderful she was and how she was single and could benefit from a good boyfriend… if you haven't noticed, Nubians marry young as well."

'"I endured it for as long as I could before making a quick exit: I wasn't interested in a perfect flower, besides I had plans and I would let nothing stop me. A few hours later, I was called in by the Movement to assist with some unexpected refugees. I went… and that is when I saw Jobal Thule for the first time. At thirteen years of age, she was the new Director of Refugee Relocation Efforts and she stood at the head of the crowd like a general commanding her army."

Ruwee shakes his head, a full grin spreading his lips now.

"I had never seen anything like it. The force of her compassion, of her will, was on full display for the world to see and it enraptured me; she was the flame and I was the moth. Jobal was the calm in the storm, creating order from chaos wherever she went. Her effortless goodness shined a light on all that was wrong with me. And as I got to know her, as I basked in her presence, I begin to realize how much of a monster I was becoming. I also knew that Jobal Thule could never love me the way I was, that I had to change if I ever wanted to win her affections. At that moment, my ambitions shifted; I wanted her and I would do whatever it took to get her. So, I forced myself to become the man you see today."

I stare at him, unable to believe my ears.

"It was hard work," he admits, shaking his head, "I had to go to those I wronged and make things right so that the truth of my deeds would not spread, because although I had been lucky up until then, word of it would have eventually gotten out and I didn't want that. I thought that was difficult, but nothing was worse than attempting to be a better person. For a long time I had to ignore what had began to come naturally to me; backstabbing, intimidating, destruction. Instead, I accepted the lies of people, blatant though they were and I helped people who I _knew_ were taking advantage of me… and I did it with a smile."

"Jobal never knew, I never told her who I was before meeting her because I never wanted to expose her to the type of man I could be, to know the type of things that I'm capable of. Even now I think that _she_ thinks that I'm too soft for politics…" Ruwee pauses, and suddenly his face is open and all the things I didn't see before are so clear. It's sadness, shame… _guilt_.

He notices my perusal and smiles sadly. "Looks bad, doesn't it? I suppose I should feel guilty, keeping this away from my own wife, but I knew when I saw her that I would never reveal that part of my past to her, not in this life. Besides, I'm not that man anymore; the things I did, back then, in the name of ambition makes me sick. All that matters is who I am now, who I choose to be. And that's what it's all about, Anakin: choices."

"Sir, I don't know what to say," I say finally, after a long silence, completely and _utterly_ serious. I just… don't know what to say.

"That's good," he says in approval, nodding his head, "the first step to enlightenment is silence. Do you want to know how I realized what I wanted? What helped me to shift my focus from crazed, ambitious politician to devoted husband and father?"

I stare at him for a moment, almost afraid of what he's going to say.

"I meditated," Ruwee says slyly, winking at me, "I thought about life with Jobal and thought nearly as much, if not more, about life without her. That made it really easy to make my decision… and it'll make yours easier too."

I frown, "Excuse me, sir?"

"I want you to close your eyes and imagine it. Imagine a world with my Padmé, and then, imagine the world without her. Come now, son, close your eyes."

He watches me closely and for the first time in a long time, I feel uncomfortable under someone else's gaze.

Feeling foolish, angry and more than a little unsettled, I close my eyes. For a moment, I consider being defiant and simply pretending to do as Ruwee suggests, but I suspect he'll know the difference. Fortunately, I am curious as to how I'd imagine the future with and without Amidala. So, perhaps this exercise isn't completely ridiculous.

I take a calming breath, allowing my mind to clear. Moments later, I am descending into the first stage of my meditation like usual.

Then, quite suddenly, I am pulled _down_.

#*#*#*#*#

Pain. So much pain.

Legs.

Arms.

Chest.

Even hands.

Each breath is a trial, a testament to the folly of my request. Yet I push past it, refusing to ask for relief. I must be strong; for in this hive of swindlers and mercenaries I must never show weakness.

"Anakin Skywalker, just _what_ are you doing?" There, standing above me, arms folded and face stern, is my wife and Empress of the Galactic Republic, Padmé Skywalker.

I look up from under the pile of warm bodies crushing me to the ground. "You should be asking them that," I retort sourly, uncomfortably conscious of the fact that my body is growing numb.

"Luke, Leia, Cairn, Pruré," Padmé says in exasperation, "get off of your father."

With groans of protest, my offspring roll off of me, finally allowing me to breath.

"This isn't over, old man," my son and third born child, Cairn, says in my ear before the last bit of pressure is gone.

I shake my head at his gall, amused: Impudent pup.

"But mom!" Leia exclaims with a dramatic, over exaggerated whine, throwing her hands in the air, "he asked for it!"

"That is blatant deception, Princess," I respond, glaring at her.

"Dad wanted to know if he was strong enough to hold us all up," Luke says, smirking at me, "so we jumped on him."

"I meant _with the Force_, which they knew before they tackled me off of my feet," I say in mock annoyance, my gaze landing on each of them in turn, promising _severe_ retribution in the future.

"It was _great_ fun, mom," Pruré, my daughter and youngest child continues cheerfully, ignoring my threat, "and he totally held us all without complaining. In fact, I think we should all do it again just to make sure it wasn't a fluke."

"What and kill your father? No, thank you. Now go, all of you and get ready for breakfast or you'll be late for school."

With good-natured protests, our children leave. Only when the soft patter of their footsteps die do I find it safe to rise from the floor.

"You owe me one, Ani," Padmé says in amusement, her eyes gleaming with laughter.

"Indeed I do, wife," I admit, lips pursed, "for a moment I didn't think I was going to make it."

"Anakin Skywalker," she teases, moving close to me, "Dark Lord of the Sith and Emperor of the Galaxy… scared of four children?"

"Children who also happen to be Skywalkers," I remind her, pulling her close to me, "if that doesn't make a chill go down your spine, nothing will."

"Oh, stop," she says with a loving grin, standing on her tiptoes to nuzzle my chin. "Now, come. We need to eat breakfast quickly before we're late for our session."

The 'session' is a weekly event wherein Padmé and I walk down the halls of the palace in plain sight of visitors and politicians alike, to personally address the concerns of our people in the throne room. Padmé insists that we do it, saying that it's important that we're "accessible" to the people. I don't really give a kriffing hell. I get to fuck Padmé anyway I want when I do it… which is why I bother at all. Last week, I was the young student and she was the hard assed teacher who liked being pounded by young men. Maybe this time, we'll play doctor and patient…

Smirking at that satisfying thought, I nod and follow her into our dining room. Although we're the rulers of the galaxy, Padmé insists on cooking breakfast for our children every morning. She says it's so that we stay grounded or something or other.

Today, it's scrambled shaak eggs with flour cakes and Corellian syrup, topped with various fruits with _yuka_ juice to wash it all down.

We are both sitting at the table when Luke, Leia, Cairn and Pruré enter, all of them fresh and ready for school.

"Yes!" Luke exclaims with excitement, taking the seat next to me, "flour cakes, my favorite!"

"We know," Leia says with disdain, watching her twin pile his plate high.

I smirk, shaking my head. If I weren't emperor, I don't think I'd be able to afford to feed my firstborn.

"So," Padmé begins, smiling at our children, "what is everyone doing today?"

"Pruré and I are going to the Jedi Temple," Cairn says off-handedly, savagely spearing a piece of fruit with his fork, "we're fourteen now, so we'll be getting our first kiddie mission soon. Besides, the Masters want to keep a close eye on me. I'm positive that Master Windu has me on some sort of 'high risk Dark Sider' watch list."

I frown at that. "A mission? Already? Your mother and I will need to know all details about that. And I wouldn't be surprised if they put you such a ridiculous list, my son. The Jedi never could get their noses far enough out of their asses to see the truth of things," I say the last part scathing, ignoring the fact that the Jedi are pretty damn correct in their concerns, but feeling vindicated when Cairn sends me a bright smile.

Out of all of my children, Cairn is in the most "danger" of going to the Dark Side. In the past, the thought of a child of mine following in my footsteps and embracing Boga would have delighted me, but now the thought leaves me sick, especially knowing what I know now. And because of that knowledge, however much I hate the thought, I'll have to talk to Master Windu, Cairn's master, soon to see what we can do to prevent it.

I grimace at the realization. Just the _thought_ of entering the sanctimonious Jedi Temple makes me ill.

"Dad," Pruré says chidingly, drawing out the word in exasperation upon noticing my reaction, "the Jedi aren't that bad! _Really_."

"I don't understand what you're saying, Pruré," I deadpan, an eyebrow rising in disbelief, "you're not speaking Basic."

Rolling her eyes, she pours a huge glopping helping of syrup on her plate before helping herself.

Padmé shakes her head, a smile stretching her lips, "What about you Leia?"

I frown as I watch my oldest daughter redden. Now, what does _that_ mean?

"I'm meeting some friends at Dax's Diner," she says, avoiding my gaze.

"By_ friends_, she means Han Solo," Luke speaks up with a smirk, it remaining on his face even after Leia slaps a hand over his mouth.

My brows furrow and my eyes narrow. "Han Solo?" The words drip from my mouth as though they're poison. "Who in the kriffing hell is _Han Solo?"_

"Anakin!" Padmé exclaims, glaring at me, unwilling to let my second usage of profanity pass in front of our children. I frown minutely, chastised, but my gaze remains on Leia.

"He's a boy from my class," she says casually, finally taking her hand away from Luke's mouth.

"A boy you like?" I ask sharply, watching her closely.

Her fidgeting is answer enough. Seeing my perusal, she stops and returns my gaze, the steel, stubborn resolve she inherited from her mother suddenly shining through her glittering eyes. "Dad! I'm sixteen! I'm old enough to have a boyfriend!"

"So, he's your _boyfriend_ now?" I demand coldly, eyes glimmering to yellow.

Seeing my reaction, her mouth opens and closes like a fish before she turns to her twin in fury and punches him the arm. _Hard_.

I place my fork down sit back in my chair and stare at her, conscious of the fact that Luke and Leia are communicating through the Force bond that is unique to them. No doubt Leia is ripping into Luke and Luke is trying to find some way to make amends.

Which only means one thing: They're trying to come up with a way to get one over on their father. Well, not today… or tomorrow either, for that matter.

"I think I may have to stop by your school to see this Han Solo," I throw out, smirking inwardly at the coming explosion.

Sure enough, Leia and Pruré detonate.

"No!" Pruré cries in horror over, brown eyes wide, "you _can't_! Are you trying to _ruin_ my social life?"

"I think it'd be fun for my friends to finally know that my father is the Emperor!" Cairn exclaims in contrast, blue eyes gleaming with excitement.

"I'm with you on this one, Car," Luke says, exchanging a smirk with his younger brother. "My friends would totally piss themselves if they knew."

"No!" Leia exclaims in panic, nearly jumping out of her seat, "are you two _crazy_! Everything would change if everyone knew! We wouldn't be the Skywalkers, the greatest troublemakers in scholastic history who just _happen_ to share a surname with the ruler of the galaxy, no, we'd be demoted to simply being the children of the Emperor! We'd have to be on our _best behavior_ at _all _times!"

The truth of their sister's words dawning in their eyes, Luke and Cairn turn to frown fiercely at me, now quite unhappy with my proposed visit to their school.

Unable to help it, I chuckle at my children's antics; they all act as though being forced to behave is the worse possible thing that can happen to them.

"Besides, Dad," Pruré speaks up heatedly, brown eyes burning, "we had a _deal_. You said that if we all stayed out of trouble,_ you _would stay away from our school! Last I checked, none of us have gone missing, started a strike, or blown anything up this entire year!"

I rub my chin for a moment as though contemplating her words. "Fine," I mutter, putting my children out of their misery, "but there are other ways for me to obtain information on this _Han Solo_."

Knowing that I had conceded all that I would, Leia falls silent, but not before sending Luke another look of anger, simmering with the promise of revenge.

Though content and happy before to simply watch her family interact, Padmé steps in when she sees the battle lines being drawn, "So, how about you Luke?" she asks quickly.

"Oh, I'm going to meet up with the Rebellion after school to go over our plan of attack," my eldest says cheerfully, as though it's the most natural thing in the world.

I sniff in disdain at his words. _The Rebellion_. If I hear one more word about the Rebellion then I won't be responsible for my actions. Luke should come home to be with his father after school, not spend time with a group of young anarchists and terrorists plotting to brainwash the Galaxy.

But Padmé and I discussed it and she thinks that I need to give Luke room to breathe… to be _independent_. Which is why he was allowed to join this Rebellion in the first place. …But no one said he had to go every time he wanted.

Raising a hand, I look deeply into Luke's blue eyes, orbs that are identical to my own and speak, throwing the Force behind every word. "You will not meet up with the Rebellion, today," I intone seriously.

Luke's eyes glaze over, "I will not meet up with the Rebellion today."

"You will come home and play Star Odyssey Online with your father," I continue, more than a little surprised that it's working.

"I will come home and play Star Odyssey Online with my father," he repeats in a daze.

I stare at my son for a moment, suspicious, especially since the rest of my family is giggling behind their hands, "Did that actually work?"

The glazed expression left Luke's face only for amusement and exasperation to take its place, "Of course not, Dad! You know mind tricks don't work on me! I just thought I would humor you, you know, in your old age."

"You see?" I exclaim, turning to my wife who's not even bothering to hide her laughter, "Ever since Luke joined the Rebellion, he has been disrespectful, defiant and unwilling to spend any time with his father," I spit the words, glaring at my son.

I knew I should have dealt with the Rebellion as soon as I heard they existed. But, I allowed them to remain and now, they're trying to take my son away from me! My nose flares in rage: They will not steal Luke away from me as long as there is breath in my body. One day soon, I will discover the whereabouts of their hidden fortress and crush the Rebellion once and for all!

Luke rolls his eyes, "Dad! It's just a _band_! And you wonder why I won't tell you where we practice! Besides, _Mom_ thinks it's cool! And she likes our music!"

"She _would_," I respond in disgust, sending my wife a hard glance, sure she says that to spite me. No one could call what Luke and his rebel friends do _music_.

She grins at me smugly before taking a dainty sip of her juice.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll cut practice early and come home so we can spend some time together," Luke says soothingly, giving me the warm, loving look he inherited from his mother.

I try to maintain my scowl even as I feel my ire draining away. "Very well," I concede gruffly, with a short nod, "that is acceptable."

He gives me a blazing smile before stuffing the rest of his breakfast in his mouth.

"Wrapped around our little fingers," Cairn mumbles suddenly, smugly under his breath.

Before I can respond to my youngest son's impertinent and completely untrue remark, Padmé rises, laughing and beckoning to our offspring, "Okay, my loves, you've tormented your father enough. It's time for school."

And as my wife herds our children toward the door, grabbing bags and PADDS and things, I look upon each of them in turn.

First, Padmé, my wife; though now in her 40s with wrinkle lines adorning her eyes, and her dark chocolate hair graying at the sides, she is still as beautiful as the day I met her.

Second is Luke, my eldest son and firstborn; blonde haired and blue eyed with the same fierce temperament and love of flying as me.

Then, Leia, my second born, twin to Luke, and my eldest daughter with dark hair and eyes like her mother, complete with a heart as brave and as fierce as a gundark.

Next, is Cairn, my third born and twin to Pruré; dark haired and blue eyed and so intelligent, so strong in his heart, in his convictions, that it pleases and worries me in equal measure.

And finally, Pruré, dirty blonde with brown eyes and a heart of gold; so gentle… with a love for blasting things out of the sky in her customized speeders.

As I gaze upon them, it's hard to believe that this is all real, that this is my life. And to think that at one point I worried about making this choice, that I actually contemplated choosing the lonely life of a dictator over Padmé.

It's true that I've had to bend, that a lot of things I intended to do never came to fruition. But the compromises I've made are a small price to pay for what I have now.

A very small price indeed.

_And then, I feel the pulling again, the distinct and omniscient presence of the Force. But I'm not ready! I do not want to be taken away, not from her, not from them! _

_But the Force is bigger, stronger than I, and I can do nothing as they disappear from my sight and I am _pulled _once more. _

#*#*#*#*#

_HAUUUUH…_

_._

_HAUUUUH…_

_._

_HAUUUUH…_

.

Pain. So much pain.

Legs.

Arms.

Chest.

Even hands.

Just… pain; consistent aches both sharp and dull, ever present, always there. Each step is a trial, each breath a testament to the failures of the past. Yet I push past it, I must; for in this den of political cutthroats and mercenaries I must never show weakness.

I walk briskly down the hall of the Imperial Palace, clone troopers, Grand Moffs and all of my subordinates parting around me like a wave.

Their reaction used to be a point of pride for me, but now, it leaves me hollow… empty. Their deference means nothing when I know for a fact that a great majority of them are constantly and actively plotting my downfall.

No matter how many enemies I kill to make a point, to impress upon my subjects my omniscience, ten more take their place, all believing, _knowing_ that their predecessor made grave and idiotic mistakes that led to their demise. Soon, though, they learn the error of such thinking, but just as before, others who do not believe they can fail take their place.

It never ends.

I never imagined that being Emperor of the galaxy would have such a high price. So many of my plans have come to fruition, but not the way I imagined. The Jedi have been destroyed, yes, but it did not satisfy me as I thought it would and peace still does not yet reign. Even now a growing Rebellion is hiding like cowards in the deep recesses of the galaxy, working day and night to overthrow me.

I will _crush_ them, eliminate them with such ferocity and savagely that it will be remembered in the annuls of history for all time. I _cannot_ allow them to take this away from me. I have given up too much, done too much to get here.

I continue my walk toward my throne room. I always take the route where I will be seen the most by subjects, workers and politicians alike. I do not use secret entrances although I have them. I want my subjects to know that I am always around; that they have to be excellent and alert at all times because they never know when I will show up.

Visitors to the Imperial Palace began to increase as I near the anteroom. Everywhere I tread, things go silent, only for the noise level to increase substantially when they consider me a safe distance away.

But I ignore it; it has always and will ever be that way wherever I go.

I am near the throne room when I see it: A mirror, bright and big is propped up against the wall in the hallway. But I register its presence too late and before I know it, I am standing in front of it.

Instantly I am ensnared by my reflection: Whereas a mirror used to the reflect the image of a tall, handsome young man with blonde hair and blue eyes, now, there is a monster. The helmet of my suit looks like an insect with its large eyes, sweeping armor-like top and jutting, unmoving robotic mouth. The brightly lit buttons on my chest plate mock me, beeping obscenities and insults with each wink.

I am an armored beast, all of my humanity stripped away the day I was forced into this monstrous suit. I have tried for years to find way to restore myself, only to be met with failure. Treating a Force sensitive is different from treating any other being in the galaxy. A person who can touch the Force is genetically unique; their DNA is composed not only of family genes, but of midichlorians. And though limbs can be cloned and replaced, midichlorians cannot. Even if I chose to have my old limbs cloned, I would not be able to use them. The michichlorians that powered those parts are gone, destroyed in the fires of Mustafar.

I had first thought to simply use another's midichlorians, to extract them from a Force sensitive body and put them in my own. But not only did the subject die a horrific death, but the newly cloned arms created from my DNA exploded: Apparently each midichlorian is coded to a specific person and cannot be placed into another being without dire consequences.

At any other time, I would have been fascinated, awed by the implications, but now, I rage. The very thing that has made me special, that has enabled me to take over and the rule the galaxy, is the very thing that is keeping me in this… this… this _prison_!

My fingers clench as I stare at the device. I had long since ordered that all mirrors in the palace be destroyed for this very reason; the introspection that comes every time I see my reflection and by now, everyone who works in the palace knows that I abhor them. Yet this one is _here, _large and in plain sight. This is a test then, from my ever present enemies.

Well, I will give them what they are asking for. Never let it be said that I am not an accommodating ruler.

Using the Force, I viciously grab the nearest uniformed sentient. It is a human man, middle aged with graying hair; a captain in the Imperial Navy.

"My… my lord!" he sputters in alarm, "what—?"

"What is that doing there?" I interrupt in rage, pointing a black-gloved finger at the mirror.

"My lord, I do not know," he cries, eyes wide with terror, "but I'll have it removed immediately and the guilty party punished!"

"That's not good enough, _captain_." Ignoring his pleas, I simply lift a hand, Force choking the life out of him in seconds before allowing his body to drop to the floor like discarded trash.

Like a well-oiled machine, two storm troopers immediately appear to cart the body away. I glance toward where the mirror is to find it gone.

Good, _someone_ around here is competent.

I turn toward my audience. They are looking at me in disbelief, fear and barely disguised disgust. I just publicly and ruthlessly killed a man over a _mirror_ and it was someone who almost surely had nothing to do with it being there.

I pause for a moment, and simply stare at the crowd. Some people are gazing upon me like I'm a demon while others avoid my eyes completely, probably in the hopes that it won't attract my attentions.

For a moment, an image swims before my face. A woman with dark hair and dark eyes, whose smile lit up the world and whose pain touched my own. She had never been afraid to speak to me, never hesitated to look me in the eye.

But she is a remnant from my past and someone I refuse to think about. I had made my choice, and she was not it.

Suddenly, I cannot stand it anymore. I cannot stand their false obeisance, their pretty words. They all sneak, talk, _behave_ like animals, so I'll _slaughter _them like animals! I _hate_ them!

Without a second thought, my lightsaber is in my hand and I am cutting the sentient nearest to me in half. Screams of agony and terrifying fear fill the air as I allow the Dark Side of the Force to take over. And how glorious it feels! The power of the Force flowing through me, the panic from my victims, the authenticity of the feelings of those around me, for once, true and clear as a bell.

And finally, when the black haze of the Dark Side vanishes, I am standing in a pool of blood.

I look around dispassionately, conscious of the storm trooper, politicians, visitors and even a Grand Moff or two lying on the floor, their eyes wide with horror, their bodies broken.

Finally, I turn to the only people I spared: A dark haired woman clutching a dark haired boy who is obviously her son.

The woman's eyes are closed, face turned into her son's as she trembles, holding him close. But the boy's green eyes are wide, nearly translucent with fear and horror as he stares up at me.

I gaze at them for a moment longer before disabling my lightsaber and continuing past them into the throne room.

My feet sink into the plush black carpet when I enter and I ignore the monuments to my victories that line the surgically clean, white walls. The walk to the throne seems to take forever and upon reaching it, I sink into the wide, soft seat slowly. It all feels so empty in that moment, so worthless, that I can no longer deny the truth that has been plaguing me for a very long: Somewhere along the line, I made a wrong choice.

I stood firm when I should have bent, I allowed the Dark Side to rule when I should have suppressed it. I followed someone else's dream instead of making my own, one that suited _me_.

Now… what do I have to show for it? Nothing.

And the only noise that shatters the perfect silence of my despair is the sound of my respirator.

.

HUUUUH…

.

HUUUUH…

.

HUUUUH…

.

_Gasping, I fight against the Force with all my might, clawing at the surface of my consciousness with ferocious determination, desperate to leave this vision, this _nightmare_. _

_And suddenly, I am free. _

#*#*#*#*#

I inhale sharply as I come to, my blue eyes wide and strained with emotion, my heart racing in my heaving chest.

Grabbing at my heart, I bend over a bit in a desperate attempt to catch my breath.

That man… in the black mask… that was me? But how? _How_! I am the most powerful Force user in the universe! Who would be capable of defeating me, of injuring me so badly that I would need such a monstrous, hellish machine to survive? And the first vision! Of Amidala… and the children, _my_ children…

Distantly, I am aware of Ruwee putting down a book that he obviously begin to read while I was ensnared in my Force vision. When I glance at him, his face is serious and still.

"Does my daughter know that you're Force sensitive? More importantly, why aren't you a Jedi?"

I stare at him, my chest still heaving with humiliating vigor, unable to even be shocked. After all, Ruwee Naberrie has been blowing away my expectations almost as soon as I walked through the door, so, why should I be surprised that he knows the difference between being sucked into an imagination of one's own making and a Force vision?

So few people do, that it really makes me wonder _exactly _what this man has seen and done in his past. It makes me wary, cautious, even angry because I never expected to meet such a man as him. Now, I think that perhaps following after Amidala so impulsively hadn't been wise. I should have done my research before coming here; should known as much as possible before descending on the people who has been acknowledged for a long time as Naboo's political first family.

I shake my head, feeling negative emotions rise within me, but ruthlessly tamping down on the Force's quick response to my ire. My anger has once again led me to make a very stupid decision. This did not cost my life, but it has cost a well protected secret; my Force sensitivity. And now, per my promise to Amidala, I cannot hurt her father. At least, not for the duration of the trip.

_Not at all if you want that vision of happiness_, a sly, silky voice whispers.

I push the thought away savagely, refusing to think about Amidala with graying hair and smile lines around her eyes, looking at me with that _emotion_ in her eyes, with… _love_, such love that it makes an unholy ache burst in my chest. And then those children, all so different, all so amazing… all who called me _Dad_.

I shake my head, my eyes rising to the ceiling. I can't think about that now. It's just… too much.

_Too much_.

My eyes snap back to Ruwee when he clears his throat, obviously still expecting an answer for his earlier question.

"Yes, she knows," I respond tersely, not even bothering with the facade of respect and deference, "and not every Force Sensitive in the known universe is fortunate enough to be recruited by the Jedi. Especially not those in the Outer Rim."

Ruwee's eyes narrow. "I see," he murmurs, relaxing back in his seat.

I don't understand exactly what he "sees," but I don't give a fuck.

I continue to take measured breaths, aware that he's looking at me. I want to pay attention to him, but the visions, the things I saw just _won't stop running through my mind_. Amidala, those wonderful children, me in that _wretched_ suit.

I shake my head fiercely, trying to clear my mind, to calm myself down. Closing my eyes, I attempt to push the thoughts away, but just as I reach for the Force, I hesitate. It was the Force that showed me those visions. What if it showed me more?

Abruptly, I dissolve my connection to it, reluctant, for the first time in my life, to touch the Force. It's irreverent, bordering on sacrilege, but I just can't handle any more visions right now and if that means refraining from using the Force until I've regained my bearings, then so be it.

In my peripheral vision, Ruwee rises. "I can tell that whatever you saw had a profound effect on you. So, I'm going to leave you here to get yourself together. But think about this: Now, after your vision, what do you want? Not as a politician, or as whatever else you choose or claim to be, but a man who will eventually desire companionship, closeness, _love_. If you can answer that, I'm sure that everything else will be much easier."

He moves to me, looking down on me and placing a warm hand on my shoulder. "Think about it, Anakin. After you decide that, then you and I will work on getting to know one another better. But know this," I frown as the hand on my shoulder tightens almost to the point of pain, "when you truly gain the love of a Naberrie woman, it's yours forever. I don't know what's between you and my daughter, but Padmé has very strong feelings for you, feelings that can easily turn into love. If you hurt my little girl, I _will_ find out about it and when I do, I will show you just how low and vile I can be. Do we understand each other?"

Blinking up at him, I nod, using every ounce of discipline I have to meet his icy, hard, calculating stare, my control completely shattered because of the visions of my possible future. And in that moment I believe everything that he told me about his past because I see _myself_ in his eyes; ruthlessness, mercilessness and a willingness to get his hands dirty.

It's ironic really: Unknowingly, Amidala has found a man who is like her father. If the situation were different, it would be amusing.

One thing is for sure, though: Ruwee Naberrie is not a man to be trifled with. And although it makes things with Amidala more difficult, I cannot help but respect him.

Patting my shoulder, he turns to leave, but then stops and faces me again, "Oh and when you come back to the house, act like I threatened you with my blasters. The women folk might protest, but they secretly love it. So, make sure you put on a good show, yeah?!"

With that, he winks at me and exits, leaving a harrowed, emotionally exhausted and thoroughly schooled Sith Lord in his wake.

End of Chapter 23: Please review

**Chapter 24: Eyes Wide Shut:** Trying the different route

A/N: So sorry for the late update, so this chapter is really long to make up for it. Still, I'll try to make the next one much sooner. Also, tried to use more Star Wars-y terms per a reader's request for more Star Wars-ness. Tell me what you think about it. **Oh, and did anybody catch what I meant by "Star Odyssey?" **I have to admit, I'm a fan of both fandoms despite the fact that such is sacrilege to die-hards. But yeah, "Star Odyssey" has my OTP, so… I gotta love it. =] Oh, and I am still writing the smut chapter. Just keep checking back at The. Rock. Stop. Or Twitter for updates on that. Also, welcome to my new beta Kyubbi123.

1. Druk = shit.

2. Kriff/kriffing = fuck/fucking


	24. Eyes Wide Shut

**The Sith and the Senator**

**Chapter 24: Eyes Wide Shut**

**By WrittinInStone**

**_P_**_admé _**_A_**_midala_

Jobal and I stop talking the minute Ruwee walks into the kitchen and to say I'm a bit disconcerted when he returns alone would be an understatement.

He looks troubled with brows crinkled and chin firm and I can't help but wonder what he's thinking, what he learned about Anakin Skywalker.

I watch him closely from where I sit at the table, frowning as he waves at Mother and me absently and continues into the living area, quite clearly lost in thought.

What _happened_ out there? Did the Sith scare him? Threaten him? It wouldn't necessarily be adhering to our terms in the purest sense, but Skywalker's a politician: He's an expert at bending the rules.

My face hardens and my teeth clenches the more I think about it.

The thought of Skywalker treating my father like some worthless peon angers me beyond reason. If he said anything to Ruwee that wasn't respectful and _completely_ upright…

Throwing my mother a quick, reassuring smile, I move after my father, not bothering to hide my concern.

"Daddy? Is everything okay?" I ask carefully, moving to sit beside him on the sofa, "did Skywalker say or do anything that I should know about?"

He is silent for a moment, staring at me closely and for a moment, I see something in his eyes, concern, determination, _steel_.

But then it is gone and he is shaking his head, gracing me with a warm, loving smile. "No, nothing like that, Padmé. But I think that perhaps you should go to the Blaster Shack and talk to him."

"Talk to him?" I ask with a frown. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm not sure," my father admits, scratching his head, "we had quite the discussion and I left to give him some time to process what was said. But being out there made it clear that you two have some things you really need to discuss and it would be best for all of us if it was taken care of before dinner."

Although it's worded as a suggestion, my father is quite clearly telling me to go and talk to Skywalker.

I stare at him critically for a moment, suspicious. My father has always been a strong-willed, formidable man, but he's never been quite this forceful with me before.

"Go on, Padmé," he presses gently with a small smile, nodding toward the exit, "he's waiting."

Nodding, I rise, deciding to ponder the mystery that is my father later, because I really_ do_ need to talk to Skywalker, _especially_ about how he choked me outside. I cannot let that go, not without explaining exactly how it made me feel… and perhaps shooting him for his temerity.

Releasing a deep, slightly weary breath, I make my way to the door leading to the back door. When I get outside, I squint slightly, the rays from Naboo's setting sun shining in my face.

It's so beautiful and I wish I could be happier that I was home, that I could appreciate it more, but that's impossible under the circumstances. By my own design, the devil resides at my place of refuge and for now, he's in control and we both know it, even with his promise that he would not harm my loved ones. Because right now, my family's safety is only as good as Skywalker's word and although he has never blatantly lied to me, this could be the first and it would be more than enough.

So, although I will confront him, I cannot risk my family.

Never them.

Perhaps now is the time to try my mother's approach and kill Skywalker with kindness.

Emphasis on the kill part.

I do not hesitate when I reach the Blaster Shack, instead, I walk right in as though I own the place… which I do.

He is standing at the window on the opposite side of the living area, his face toward the horizon. His body is tense, poised, as though troubled, as though listening to something… waiting for something.

I pause upon seeing him, my head tilting slightly to study his profile.

He really is a beautiful specimen and with the added backdrop of Naboo's golden rays outlining his body in the most perfect manner, he unknowingly presents the world with the quintessential golden human Adonis.

And my heart aches as I watch him, my breath taken away by his splendor. If only his handsomeness were skin deep, if only I saw only the monster, then perhaps I would be able to resist him. But he draws me, continues to draw me, even after everything.

How is it fair that someone like him comes in such a magnificent package? Evil should be ugly, pure and simple. Not bright and bold with striking blue eyes and a smile that makes the heart melt.

Shaking my head, I purse my lips as I continue to gaze upon him.

It's so hard to steel myself against his charms in this place. On Coruscant, my heart is strong and my resolve is as granite: I am Senator Amidala there, former Queen of Naboo and liberator of my people. I am a warrior.

But here, at Varykino, I have always been softer, able to completely relax the protections around my heart, my walls automatically lowering around the only people in the universe I trust.

But now, Skywalker is here and I cannot seem to build the walls back up, not even when they're so desperately needed.

Yet I must: Skywalker doesn't respect weakness and seeing it in me could be the end of everything.

Taking a silent, deep breath, I move to stand beside him, gazing at the setting sun with him, my nose flaring slightly as his wonderful masculine scent floods over me.

"So," I begin without preamble, ignoring how good he smells, "as I understand it, you and my father had quite the conversation."

He tenses, the movement small and nearly imperceptible. "We did," he admits quietly, a strange note in his voice, "it was… _enlightening_. Your father is an interesting man."

I frown at his words. "Should I be concerned?" I ask, completely serious, because Skywalker thinking my father is interesting is not at _all_ comforting.

"Probably," he says cryptically, a gleam in his eyes, "but not about what you may think."

"And what exactly does that mean?" I demand, turning to face him, crossing my arms.

He merely gives me an indulgent smile, making me grit my teeth in annoyance. But since it's obvious that he's said all that he's going to, I move on.

"We need to talk," I state harshly, glaring at him.

"Yes, we do," he replies evenly, eyes returning to the darkening horizon.

"I mean about earlier," I continue, refusing to allow him to push my buttons.

"Talk away," he says dismissively, his mind still quite clearly _not _on our conversation.

"Why did you choke me?" I ask, deciding to cut right to the chase.

I catch his attention then and he looks at me, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

"You threatened me," he says slowly, as though the reason were obvious.

"And you thought that was an offense worthy of a choking?" I demand, staring at him in disbelief.

"No one threatens me, Padmé," he says quietly, staring hard at me, "no one."

"Not even your girlfriend?" I shoot back, returning his sharp look. "Not even the one person who's protecting you from the Jedi?"

He falls silent, a frown stretching his handsome face.

"How do you think that makes me feel, Anakin?" I continue, turning away from him and moving toward the couch. "I have done things for you that I never would have done for anyone else, yet you _choke_ me, physically _assault_ me just because I said something you _disliked_?"

I whirl around to face him again, my demeanor fierce, "How can I possibly trust you knowing that you have no problem hurting me? Why should I be with you after this?"

Folding my arms, I nod in satisfaction at the look on his face. Anakin is staring at me in bemusement, his eyes slightly wide with eyebrows raised to his forehead. Good; it looks as though my words have struck a chord. Maybe I've gotten through to him.

"You consider yourself my girlfriend?" he asks after a long moment of silence, his voice heavy with surprised smugness, a small smile curving his lips.

Or maybe I haven't.

I can only stare at him with head tilted, mouth hanging open and eyebrows pulled together. So, the saying is true: It really doesn't matter whether you're old or young, human or not, Jedi or Sith. A male is a male is a male: He only hears what he wants to hear.

"Out of everything I said," I begin slowly in angry disbelief, "all you heard was me calling myself your girlfriend?"

He shrugs, his smile evolving into a smirk. "You said something else?"

Fury boiling inside me, I turn around to storm out, intent on leaving before I say something I regret. Why did I ever think I could talk to him? And how could I ever think that my mother's way would work? Kindness doesn't work on _assholes_; only blasters do.

"Padmé," he speaks quietly, his voice carrying to me as I near the door. "It was never my intention to hurt you. I will not choke you again."

I turn around then and look back at him. He is staring at me, the humor gone from his face, his eyes serious.

"Even if I provoke you? Which I will and probably in the near future too," I state slowly, surprised and more than a little taken aback by the sudden change in him.

He is silent, his head tilting, studying me and I cannot help but think his mind is still torn between me and something else.

"Even if you provoke me," he confirms with a small nod.

I stare at him for a moment longer in suspicion, searching his face.

Something has _changed_. He seems… _genuine_ and, dare I say it, _nicer_. When the hell did that happen? Is this a result of the conversation he had with my father? I can't think of any other explanation because I'm almost sure he would not have responded this way an hour ago.

Suddenly, I very much need to know what happened between him and my father. Because what could have possibly happened in so short an amount of time that would make Anakin so… suddenly… _this_? If Anakin won't tell me, maybe my father will.

But for now… for now… I guess I'll take Anakin at his word.

Slowly, I move back toward him until I am standing in front of him. Upon reaching him I rise on my tip toes expectantly. He moves down to meet me and I kiss him, my toes nearly curling at the heat of his lips on mine, his tongue gently stroking mine.

Glaring at him, I allow myself to drop back to flat feet, all the while cursing our height difference.

"Don't think this means that I've forgiven you," I remark sternly, as he takes my hand and threads our fingers, "just that I'm no longer plotting your murder."

"Thank you, milady," he says gravely and I have the strange feeling that his words are both mocking and sincere.

"Come, we should get back to dinner," I say, turning to leave, tugging on him, only for him to stop me by pulling me back.

"Not yet," Anakin responds with a shake of his head, gently steering me back to the couch.

"What about my family? They're probably all there right now," I say with a frown, "and my mother prepared our meal specially."

"This won't take long," he responds matter-of-factly.

Then suddenly, we're on the couch with me in his lap, and his hands slowly trailing down my clothed stomach before going under my shirt to my breast, gently rolling my nipples between his talented fingers.

"Anakin," I gasp in surprise as he continues to work my breasts, his warm, rough hands expertly massaging the small, fleshy orbs.

"Padmé," he responds easily, grunting softly as he places a sensual kiss on the back of my neck, causing me to shiver as lust hits me hot and heavy. With a practiced motion, he lifts me and pulls my panties and my tight, white pants down to my knees before positioning me back on his lap.

He rubs my bare thighs for a moment, before his hand delves into my nether regions, rubbing and stroking the already soaking flesh.

"We can't do this here," I bite out, barely able to speak as I hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper being pulled down, "what if someone comes looking for us?"

"They won't," he says confidently, and I can feel the weeping head of his member, hot against my ass.

"Wait!" I gasp, as I feel him move his head to the tip of my center, "is this what you wanted to 'talk' to me about earlier?"

"Yes," he responds cheerfully, his voice rough, his arm muscles bulging under my fingers, "I thought you'd appreciate my discretion. After all, I didn't think you'd want your parents to hear me fucking you in the house."

And as he slowly lowers me down onto his incredibly hard member, I can tell immediately tell that his placement of my pants were intentional as they keep my legs closed tightly, forcing me to squeeze every inch of him. Force, but I can feel him pulsing inside of me; so thick and hard and _alive_.

My breath catches in my throat and my head spins as the sounds of our fucking fills the room: soft grunts, rustling clothing and the quiet slaps of his body ramming into mine. And all I can do is hold on to his hard arms as he moves in and out of me.

"Good," I croak, my famed ability to speak dead under the assault of his shaft, his hands, his mouth.

His answering laugh is soft, exhilarating, as his picks up the pace, his large body ramming eagerly up into my much smaller one.

Dear _nebula_, but this feels so _amazing_. He's thrusting inside me so hard that the momentum is almost pushing me all the way off him, even as tightly as I am squeezing him.

"Force," he grunts, a hand coming to firmly at my throat, pressing me back closer into his chest, "you feel so kriffing incredible. I don't know why I waited so long to do this: I should have fucked you _ages_ ago."

I can only moan as I push down mindlessly on him.

"Anakin," I gasp, my breath coming in small, quick exhalations, "I'm… I'm…"

"Do it," he commands.

And then I'm coming so hard that the world goes bright and white like the clouds of Naboo on a sunny day.

Anakin continues to thrust into me, his pace slowing down as he grinds hard against my center; once, twice, and then a third time before I feel him explode inside me, ejaculating within me in several strong, warm spurts of fluid.

I fall limp then, splayed out across his heaving chest, open and vulnerable, the wetness of our combined liquid seeping between my thighs and running down my leg, warming my whole body.

After a moment, he maneuvers me so that my right arm is wrapped around his left shoulder, then kisses me, his mouth warm and wet and I sigh into him, my bones feeling as soft as putty as his strong arms wrap around me.

He breaks our kiss to look into my eyes. I in turn look into his, fascinated by the whorls of gold in the brilliant azure globes.

"Come now," he says softly, moving nary a muscle, "your family is waiting."

I nod mutely as finally, he lifts me off of him, his semi-hard member pulling out of me with a soft, delicious pop.

My eyes wide, I turn to face him as he rises also. Bending over, with his eyes still on me, he tugs down my shirt and then bends down to pull my pants back onto my hips, his hands deliberately sliding up my skin as he does so.

Then, when we are both presentable again, he takes my hand without another word and we walk out of the Blaster Shack.

#*#*#*#*#*#

I feel as though I have: "My boyfriend just fucked the hell out of me in my father's man cave," written on my forehead.

I smile at Sola wanly as I nibble on my _gana_ balls, trying with all my power to successfully bluff my way through dinner.

My family is in the dining room: Jobal and Ruwee sits at each head of the table, respectively, with me sitting on my mother's right, Anakin next to me and Pooja, Sola's daughter, sitting next to him on the left of my father. On the right of my father sits Darren, then Sola and then Ryoo.

In truth, everything is going wonderfully: The food is great, the company is even better and Anakin is behaving himself. The problem is that I can't shake the fact that there's something out of place on me that bespeaks my naughty deeds with our guest.

Is there a hair out of place that makes them suspect what Anakin and I were doing outside? Are my clothes on improperly, indicating that the man sitting next to me was just pounding into me as though his life depended on it not even ten minutes ago?

By the sly smirks my sister is sending me, she _does _suspect or at least hopes that, that's exactly what we were doing. Stars, but she's such a hopeless romantic; she would love the fact that me and my boyfriend were getting it on just outside my parent's home.

Suddenly seeing the humor in my situation, I shake my head in amusement, my sister's antics serving to ease some of my tension.

Of course when dinner is over, she's going to drill me about why it took me so long to retrieve him, and of course, I'm not going to tell her… _much_.

"So, Anakin," Sola says loudly, drawing all attention and interrupting the various conversations going on at the table, "how did you and my sister meet?"

"It's a funny story, actually," he says with a smile, sitting his fork down, "we met at the opera. She had snuck out to hide from everyone on a nearby veranda. I myself saw the view on the way back from the 'fresher and immediately wanted to enjoy it. But when I went outside, I had no idea who was out there waiting for me. And I have to tell you, she made quite the impression: She was _not_ nice."

"Oh, really?" Sola says in mock surprise, sending me a laughing look, "but she's so _friendly._"

I scowl at her as everyone laughs, my cheeks heating in embarrassment.

"You should have seen the look she gave me," he continues cheerfully, "if looks could kill, I would have been slain where I stood. Fortunately for me, something grabbed her attention and it was just the situation I needed to impress her. It was all pretty much downhill from there."

"I wouldn't say you _impressed_ me," I retort as my amused family looks on, "more like you surprised me."

"Whatever you call it, it worked," he responds, sending me a knowing grin.

"Sure looks like it," Sola says slyly, a smirk on her face.

"Sola, stop teasing your sister," my mom speaks up teasingly, her eyes alight with humor.

"Thank you, Mama," I say gratefully, throwing my sister a look promising vengeance.

"But enough about us! Tell us about your family, Anakin," Jobal prompts, her eyes soft with the contentment of being surrounded by her family.

At my mother's question, I can immediately feel Anakin tense, sense the coldness stealing through him, the humor in him fading. And from the looks on the adult's faces, they can feel it to.

"I never knew my father," he says quietly, after a long moment, "and I have no idea where my mother is."

Everyone falls silent, sending him various looks of surprise and dismay.

Frowning, I turn to stare at him: Anakin has never talked about his mother before, but now that he is, it's obvious it's a sore object. There's something in his voice… like even though his mother is gone, he still cares for her. There's definitely a story there, and it's causing my investigative senses to tingle. Perhaps later I should do a little digging…

"I'm sorry, Anakin," my mother responds with sincere sorrow, "I didn't realize."

"Of course you didn't," he answers quietly, taking a sip of his juice, "how could you?"

Silence falls again, no on quite knowing what to say.

"Maybe you'll find your mama one day," Ryoo speaks suddenly, her innocent voice cutting through the air like a knife in warm butter, "Like that time I got lost at the park, and my mommy found me."

"Yeah," Pooja adds cheerfully, her eyes luminous, "then you'll be together again and you'll both be happy."

The adults freeze, all gazes shooting to Anakin.

But he is staring down at Pooja, his gaze shifting between her and Ryoo.

"Maybe you're right," he says softly, his eyes warming, gifting them both with a bright smile.

Their little eyes widen and they both smile, giggling as they flourish under the glow and brilliance of his regard. I shake my head, sympathizing with them; his smile is lethal and by far, the best weapon in his very formidable arsenal.

And as conversation around the table begins to flow once more, I reach under the table and squeeze his hand, pleased with his gentleness with my nieces.

He just looks at me, some of the chilliness in his eyes lessening as I rub his hand.

But as I sit there and I smile and continue to enjoy my family, my mind races.

Maybe there _is_ something I can do to break down his walls, something that has been right in front of me all this time, something that might still hold good and tender memories even for a Sith lord.

Maybe I need to find Anakin Skywalker's mother.

End of chapter 24: Please review guys! They're digital love, lol.

**Chapter 25: Keeping Up With the Naberries:** In which the Sith may be out of his league.

A/N: Kudos to anyone who got my Star Trek: Into Darkness vibe going on in this chapter. Also, I know you guys are waiting for the new smut chapter and I'm going to write it, but not right now. I'm actually going to feature that on my new site. So, thank you for being patient. It'll be here soon. Also, thank you to Rookworm for the formal name for the Lake House.


	25. Keeping Up With the Naberries

**Chapter 25: Keeping Up With the Naberries**

**_D_**_arth _**_V_**_ader_

_With a grunt, I move over her, pinning her hands over her head as I surge into her, mercilessly pounding into her over and over. _

_My amber eyes caress the lines of her neck as I continue to drive into her, loving the feel of her tight body hugging me so fiercely. _

_This is it, this is why I refuse to let her go. _

_This feeling that she elicits in me, one that no other can produce, is like a drug. It's what drew me to her the very first night I saw her, it's what keeps me anchored to her even after everything._

_Because here, here… she cannot hate me, she cannot loathe me, cannot show me how much she despises me. _

_Here, she is mine; mind, body and soul, and we both know it. _

_It's not the first time she has had to admit defeat; it's just one of the admissions that hurt the worst._

_I continue to study her even as I fuck ruthlessly into her smaller body. The only indication of her pleasure are the soft catches in her throat as I hammer away, her face turned away from me, her defiance of me showing even in this way._

_Gritting my teeth, I pull out of her, only to sit up and move her over my lap, her breasts pressing into my chest as I surge into her again._

_Her moans are louder now and she is clawing at my back as she rides me violently to release._

_I still as I empty into her, the slippery mess between her legs like a warm bath after a long day. _

_She goes limp in my arms, and even as I continue to hold her close, I feel her withdrawing back into her shell, can almost feel the shame falling over her as she realizes that she has once again succumbed to my hands, my cock, my mouth. _

_I pull back slightly to look into her eyes. _

_They do not hold the warmth, the life, the love that they used to. Now, they are cold, the light gone from them. This person… this woman in my arms is a mere shell of who she once was. _

_It didn't have to be this way. We could have ruled the way I always wanted; side by side with her as my companion. _

_But she had resisted me. And she paid the price for her disobedience._

_She tried to change me. _

_And she failed. _

_She tried to save the Jedi. _

_And she failed. _

_She tried to save the Republic. _

_And she failed._

_She tried to save her children. _

_And she failed._

_Now, the sentence for her failure is to live a life in the world that I have created, to be the consort to a monster… the wife to a Sith. She is under my complete control… just as is the rest of the galaxy._

_I push her away and rise, unable to look up her still, haggard form a moment longer._

_Although blood flows through her veins, although her heart beats, this woman is not alive. I just fucked a corpse; Padmé Amidala is dead and all the remains is a husk. _

_There is a heavy silence as I dress, the soft rustle of my clothing barely disturbing it. She remains still and naked on the bed, her eyes dull and unfocused. This is a ritual now, our routine, so I know she's going to say something as she has done every night since the day she finally gave up. _

_Since the day I broke her. _

_Finally, after all of my clothes are on, she speaks and her voice, like her eyes, is lifeless, void of anything but despair._

_"Why don't you just kill me?" she asks softly. "Why do you continue to hold on? Have you not taken all from me? Have you not won? My friends are dead, the galaxy is enslaved to your will, and my children are monsters who loath me and kill, without hesitation, at your bidding. You do not need me anymore, so why do you continue to torment me? Why… why won't you let me go?"_

_It's the same words she has said everyday for the last ten years, and I give her the same response that I always give, will continue to give._

_"Because you are mine, and you will remain with me until I am finished with you," I answer harshly, turning my yellow gaze to stare coldly, dangerously at her, "now, go and wash yourself. I'll be ready to fuck you more after I've hunted down this latest Jedi."_

_Her eyes water and I am not surprised at the disgust I feel bubble through me at her weakness. It wasn't always this way, no… she wasn't always this pitiful. She used to be strong, as quick to laughter as she was to anger. And it remained so for a long time after my coup d'etat; she retained her spirit, she fought me and I did not always win. _

_Then, one day, her antics went too far and I… I reacted. _

_Angered beyond reason, I ripped our children from her care while they were only ten years of age. It had _pleased_ me to do it, to see the panic in her eyes, to finally impress upon her the gravity of defying me. I knew that taking our children away from her, that turning them to the Dark Side, would hurt her more than anything._

_And I was so enraged… that I did._

_For one month, I immersed my children in Boga, sending them to specialists to be trained as Sith._

_She begged and pleaded every day of that month, adhered to my every whim, political and sexual, to regain her children._

_Finally, her heartbreak and agony touched something deep within me and I relented and sent for them._

_But when they returned… they were not the same._

_In one month, the Dark Side had turned my warm, loving, smiling, children… into monsters. _

_And when they saw their mother… they did not know her. Their eyes did not light up like they used to upon seeing her, and their gazes, usually so full of adoration, were dead; they looked upon her as a stranger, as though they hated her. _

_Seeing their transformation, the amber eyes of the two children she had carried so precariously for nine months and nurtured lovingly for all their lives, seeing her last joy in the world turned into something _other_… _

_It shattered her. _

_I remember the look on her face when they entered the room. The bright smile splitting her face had frozen, slowly fading to horror as she looked upon her beloved children, her mouth opening slowly in disbelief and a terrible fear… a frightening terror. _

_She had looked at me then, her gaze meeting mine, and in that moment I saw something snap. _

_It wasn't until later, when her already rare smiles stopped completely, when her already scarce laughter ceased altogether… when she simply stopped fighting me, that I realized I had won. _

_But the price had been much too high. _

_And now, looking upon her weary, spiritually broken form, I ponder, not for the first time, her words. _

_Why can't I let her go? She is nothing but a shell now, nothing but a body for me to visit my pleasure on. And there are others who would happily take her place as such, so why don't I simply kill her? Release her? _

_Turning around, I gaze upon her once again. Even now, sixteen years after first meeting her, with signs of aging marring her features, she is still beautiful to me. Her chocolate hair is nearly completely gray, prematurely so, and her body has long since began to loosen from the tightness of her youth. Yet I still want her and it makes _no sense_. There are many beautiful women who desire me, so, why is _she_ still the only woman_ I _desire?_

_A small, barely discernible whimper of helplessness and self-loathing escapes her, and my black heart… it stutters. _

_It's too late to tell her that I made a mistake, to tell her that the ruin of our children lies at my feet and mine alone. It's too late to mend her shattered heart. It's too late to regain that which had been within my grasp if only I had worked harder to please her, to compromise. _

_It's much too late to tell her I'm sorry. _

_Suddenly, rage fills me. I am the Emperor of the Galaxy! The most feared being that ever existed! My power is absolute, and yet this woman still holds power over me. My own weakness angers me; it angers me that I made so many mistakes, that she is broken, that my children are abominations. _

_It angers me that there is nothing I can do to fix this mess, nothing I can do to salvage my relationship with Amidala. She hates me and will continue to do so until the day she dies._

_Furious at the thought, at the sheer impotency of this knowledge, I turn around with a swirl, needing to be anywhere but in this room._

_And the only thing I hear as I leave are the heart-wrenching sounds of her muffled sobs. _

#*#*#*#*#

I jerk upright with wide eyes, gasping, my chest heaving as the vision falls away as stealthily and silently as it had come. Placing a hand over my dangerously racing heart, I swing my legs to the side of the bed, my feet resting on the floor before I allow my head to fall into my hands.

Another dream. Another _fucking_ Force vision.

And this one was the worst of them all.

I close my eyes, my breathing still harsh and rapid, and suddenly, I can't stand one more moment in this room. I need to get out of here, to breathe in fresh air and shake the despair of this latest vision from my head.

Quickly donning a robe, I waste no time in leaving the room. Moments later, I am outside in the garden, the delicious coolness of the night air flowing over me, but doing nothing to ease the turmoil within. It's early in the morning, nearly time for the family to begin stirring which is not good because I need some space, some time to think, to _meditate_.

And because I really feel like killing someone.

_Literally. _

Shaking my head again, I run a hand agitatedly through my hair.

Why had the Force sent me another vision? And not just any vision, but one that that repels me to my very core? The first vision I received just yesterday in the presence of Ruwee had elicited the most incredible feelings I'd ever experienced; warmth, love, and something that might quite possibly be happiness. It is a feeling I cannot remember experiencing with anyone other than my mother, and that, in very rare moments.

But the vision afterwards and now this one tonight _revolts_ me more than I thought possible.

I close my eyes as a shudder of revulsion runs through my body and I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself.

This… cannot continue. This myriad of dreams, this cornucopia of nightmares: It _cannot _go on.

But how do I stop it? The Force is clearly trying to warn me of the consequences of some of my decisions by showing me these possible futures, but while they are doing their job well, they also _confuse_ me: Because they show the effect, but not the cause or the specific decisions that led to those outcomes. But of course it wouldn't; that would be much too easy. And that's not the only thing that bothers me; the sheer _reality_ of the visions, the implications, alarm me to nearly panicked degree.

What does it mean that losing Amidala, rather by dissolving our relationship or by breaking her spirit, _repulses_ in such a severe matter? Do my feelings for her really run so deeply? _When_ did this happen? _How_? She was supposed to be a means to an end, a plaything. But now, I cannot deny that it must be more. Just the very thought of those visions makes the bile rise within me, the nausea nearly causing my dinner to make a reappearance.

And I _can't_ get the sight of her, spiritually crushed and damaged beyond repair, out of my head. I cannot stop seeing her haggard face, her glazed eyes; all evidences of her broken spirit.

And I _hate_ it; I hate it more than I hate the Jedi, more than I hate the insipid politicians in the Senate, more than I hate slavery.

I blink slowly, the sudden revelation striking me with the force of an out-of-control speeder. I hate it more than I hate slavery…?

Before I can latch onto that startling thought, I turn around as I sense a presence behind me. I expect it to be Amidala, but it isn't: It's her mother, Jobal.

My eyes narrow as she fills my visions. Stang, this is the very_ last_ thing I need. I need to think, to sort my thoughts, not entertain my girlfriend's mother. And what's worse is that no matter how much I want to tell her to fuck off, I can't because that would anger Amidala. Then again, why should that bother me? Her mother would still be alive, wouldn't she? If she had approached me and interrupted my thoughts like this on Coruscant, I'd have just killed her and been done with it. I'm not going to do that, so, Amidala should be proud of my restraint.

But just as I open my mouth to tell Jobal off, the image of a broken Amidala floats before my vision. My mouth remains open for a second longer before closing again. I have seen how powerful a destructive force my fury is and I do not want to make the same mistake I did in the vision.

I do not want to hurt Amidala.

So, for her, I will _attempt_ to be polite to the Naberrie family's matriarch… for now.

Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I notice that Jobal is looking at me in silence, with hands folded in front of her and it strikes me for a moment how much she looks like Amidala. Blinking, I force the thought away as I gaze warily upon her. She is dressed in cream colored pants with a long, brown cloak covering her shoulders and falling around her body. She's an early riser: a trait Amidala clearly did not inherit.

"Good morning," she says evenly, tilting her head to gaze at me.

I grit my teeth at the inane greeting, "Hello," I return with as much respect as I can muster.

She smiles faintly, "That's the worst greeting I've had in a long time and that's including the one I just got from Padmé for waking her up this early in the morning."

I say nothing, but I can feel my face twitching in irritation at her intuitiveness. "Is that so?" I respond, struggling to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

She doesn't answer, merely continues to gaze upon me.

My eyes narrow and I feel my anger begin to rise the longer she just stares at me. Why is she fucking _staring _at me?

"I can see why my daughter likes you," she says finally, nodding her head as though in confirmation of something. "You're handsome, smart, a good politician and a bad boy," she sighs at that, shaking her head in clear exasperation. "It's something she got from her mother, unfortunately, falling in love with a bad boy."

But then, her gaze turns calculating as she stares into my eyes, "Or perhaps not so unfortunate after all."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Naberrie, but I have no idea what the krif you're on about," I say carelessly, staring at her hard.

She smiles fully now, as though amused by my profanity.

"You will," she says cryptically. She turns away from me and begins to walk away. Three steps in, she turns back to me and inclines her head, "Well, come on then." She then turns and continues down a path that leads deeper into the gardens, obviously expecting me to follow and I have no choice but to do so.

I move beside her, struggling to keep my temper under control. I need this time to ponder my visions, to decide my plan of action, to connect with the Force and find out what the krif it wants from me. I _cannot_ waste this time with Amidala's eccentric, thoroughly annoying mother.

We walk in silence for a long bit, stopping at random places along the way for her to touch a flower here and there and as we do, my ire continues to build to a nearly uncontrollable degree. We're _wasting time_: Did she call for me to walk with her so she could fondle a couple of flowers? She couldn't have done that _alone_? Finally, she speaks and when she does, not only do I forget my displeasure, but I nearly break my kriffing neck.

"My husband told you didn't he? About his past as the back-stabbing, lying, completely corrupt politician?" she says matter-of-factly. It wasn't a question.

My eyebrows shoot up in incredulous disbelief and I turn to look at her so quickly that I feel my fucking _vertebrae _snap.

"He still thinks I don't know, huh?" she continues as though she doesn't care that she just gave me spine injuries, "for all his political saavy he is still a man. Completely oblivious to what's in front of him."

She turns to me, aware of my staring, "Surprised? Never be surprised, Anakin. There's no such thing as secrets. Someone always knows what's happening in the shadows, in the secret places of the dark. And finding the dirt on my husband before I ever really started dating him really wasn't that hard. I had thought that he would have told me about his past by now, of his own volition, but he hasn't and to tell you the truth, it hurts a bit to know that he was willing to tell a complete stranger about his secret life before telling his own wife. But… I understand the reason behind it," she says with a sad shake of her head. "It's easier to tell a stranger about your bad deeds than the person you love. "

I can only continue to stare at her as I feel my grasp of who the Naberries are as a family once again being turned on its head. By the Force, when Nubians insist that the Naberries are the political first family of Naboo, they aren't joking. There's more political intrigue within this kriffing family then it is in the entire Nubian senate.

"If you knew what he was and what he had done," I begin slowly, carefully, "then why did you continue in your relationship with him?"

"Because he drew me," she responds seriously, looking up at me, "he blew my mind and rocked my world and I wanted to be with him more than anything, and that was despite knowing he was the worst possible person for me. It was hard for me, because I was under no illusions that I could change him; you can't change people, it's impossible. But he did change _himself_, for _me_: And that's how I knew that he really loved me, that's when I knew that I had made the right decision. And honestly I'm glad that he did change, because if he hadn't…"

She pauses and we stop walking. Turning to face me, Jobal Naberrie looks me straight in the eye, "If Ruwee Naberrie hadn't changed, hadn't become a man that I could love, hadn't found a balance between the darkness in him and the burning light of good, then it's highly unlikely that you would ever know Padmé Amidala."

Silence falls and I take a deep breath, wondering when this trip to torment Amidala turned into something so _different_.

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, finally breaking the silence.

"You know why," she says shortly, with a small laugh, "you're like Ruwee, maybe worse if I'm honest. Your savagery is hidden beneath such a thin veneer that it's incredibly easy to see if you know what to look for. But despite how dangerous I think you are, I know that you care for my daughter, or you wouldn't be here."

"So that's why you came out here?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest as I watch her with narrowed eyes, "to tell me you're on to me?"

"No," she says immediately, shaking her head. "I came out here to let you know that I know how dangerous you are… and because I want you to protect my daughter."

I blink, uneasiness stirring within me. "What do you mean?" I ask sharply, "Is Padmé in danger?"

Jobal laughs and it's a joyless, painful thing.

"When is Padmé _not_ in danger? She thinks she's so strong, and she is, but she's just one person. She doesn't really have anyone to watch out for her on Coruscant. We're too far away and she has no close friends there. She only has you. And though she's been lucky so far, if there's a concerted force against my daughter by those she has exposed, they'll take her down and I can't…"

Her voice breaks off and the pain in her voice is raw and, unwillingly, it touches something within me. Why does Naberrie pain seem to resonate so strongly within me?

"I can't lose her. I can't get the message, the com call, the missive, that my daughter is dead. This may be the most selfish thing I've said in my life, but exposing a person's wrongdoing will never be worth more than my daughter's life. Don't mistake my meaning: If it came down to it and I had to choose between a group of people and my daughter, I would make the right choice, but I would do it knowing that I had done the right thing, that my daughter had died for a good cause. But for her to die because of the anger of someone who deserved their fate… it would _kill_ me."

Silence falls again and it's thick and tense. And I'm glad for it, because Jobal's words have struck me.

I've never thought about Amidala being in danger because I've never seriously contemplated the ramifications of her karma-cide activities, yet what Jobal says makes sense. And it bothers me. I have no idea if Amidala has been attacked as a result of her investigations or how many times it has occurred if she _has _been attacked. I know nothing.

And that is _grossly_ unacceptable, so much so that it must needs change as soon as conceivably possible.

"So, will you do it?" she asks, looking me straight in the eye. "Will you protect my daughter, will you watch over her the way that I cannot?"

I return her gaze and nod, not even bothering to fake a contemplative silence. "Yes, I will protect Padmé, but I'm not doing it for you," I answer honestly, brutally, curious as to how she's going to react, "I protect what's mine."

She watches me, her forehead furrowed, before she smiles, nodding as though satisfied. "That's what I wanted to hear."

Before I can respond to her wholly unexpected words, a voice calls out, "Mama! What are you doing to my boyfriend?"

We both turn to see Padmé making her way down the path toward us, a ferocious scowl on her face. And I can't help but smirk at her calling me "boyfriend." She notices, of course, causing her frown to deepen.

"I'm not doing anything to him, Padmé," Jobal says in exasperation, hands moving to her hips, "you see? He's perfectly fine."

"Physically, he is," she answers her mother, folding her arms as she comes to a stop in front of us.

"We were just having chat, is all," Jobal said soothingly, rubbing her daughter's arm.

"A chat about what?" Amidala asks suspiciously.

"This and that," Jobal replies cryptically, cheerfully.

Amidala's brows furrow with frustration. Good to know that I'm not the only one who finds Jobal Naberrie exasperating.

"Mom," Amidala begins in what I call her "rant" voice; it's the tone she uses when she's gearing up to go on a tirade. A _long_ one. Apparently, Jobal recognizes it as well because she quickly cuts her off.

"Padmé, you're brought this young man here to meet your family and you don't want me to speak to him?" Jobal asks in obviously fake hurt, "I just wanted to know a bit more about him. I didn't know it would bother you so much… does it?"

Amidala frowns as though wanting to argue, but knowing that not agreeing would make her look like a horrible daughter, she releases a sigh of exasperation, her shoulders slumping in resignation, "Of course not, mother," she mumbles.

"Great," Jobal says happily, the fake hurt fading as quickly as it had come, her hand moving to her chest, "then no harm done."

She turns to face the both of us, "I'm going back to the house now, and you two should return soon. Ruwee should have started breakfast by now."

As we both nod in affirmation, she moves to Amidala, hugs her, and then, winking at the both of us, turns and begins to walk back toward the house.

Together we watch as she disappears around a brush.

"Amidala," I tell her seriously as soon as Jobal is out of sight, sure she'll understands exactly what I'm trying to say, "your mother is a fucking politician."

She does.

"She sure as hell is," she answers, glowering at the place her mother disappeared, "I _know_ her and she's worse than a interrogation specialist. She said something to you didn't she? Stang, I've been trying to stop her from being alone with you since we got here and of course, she outmaneuvers me. Did you see how quickly she stymied me just now? Force, if I could be as good as her, I'd be running the Galactic Senate by now."

I turn to her with a raised eyebrow, amused by her tirade, "I thought you already did."

"Nice try, Skywalker," she says drily, humor dying up in a flash, "don't think that I don't know that you're trying to steal my votes for Supreme Chancellor, because I do."

I look down at her, slightly amused by her mercurial mood swings. Normally, I would continue to tease her, enjoying the gauntlet of her emotions, but unfortunately, now is not to time to egg her on.

Taking her hand, I squeeze it lightly, "Let's deal with that when we return to Coruscant," I say smoothly, giving her a small smile, "for now, you should enjoy being with your family.

She gazes at me in surprise and suspicion for a moment, before relaxing and nodding.

"Fine," she says, with a nod, her hand tightening around mine, "but this isn't over."

"I never thought that for a second," I say with mock solemnly, smirking as she squeezes my hand hard.

The walk back to the house is made in silence, hand in hand.

#*#*#*#*#

Somehow, some way, Sola Naberrie has declared war on me.

I glare at her from across the table as I shove a spoonful of fried, scrambled shaak eggs into my mouth.

I do not know when it happened or where it was decided, but at some point, she decided it was a good idea to challenge me, to match her wits with mine.

I, of course, accepted the challenge.

It began with breakfast. Amidala and I arrived in the kitchen to find everyone's place set but mine. Although the rest of the family looked on in amusement from their chairs, I could tell by the smug look on Sola's face that it was she who was responsible for my missing breakfast ware.

Confused, but cautious, I searched through the Naberrie's cabinets to find the appropriate dishes and then turned around to sit only to find my chair gone.

She had managed to get my chair out of the kitchen without my knowledge.

I couldn't help but be impressed.

It wasn't until I finally sat down and begin to eat that I realized that I was engaging in battle. Up until that point, the conversation had been good and the food even better, but when I asked Sola if she could pass me the biscuits, she assured me that she could and cheerfully continued to eat as though I had not said anything. When I politely asked her why she hadn't done so if she was capable, she responded that I hadn't said 'please', as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I did not know whether to be angry or amused.

But in that moment, I nodded at her, and it was understood by all that I was taking up the gauntlet she had thrown.

The games had begun and she had no idea who she was dealing with.

Now, I am in the Theed Zoo and Aquarium after being dragged here by Amidala and her annoying family. Ruwee and Jobal had spotted some friends soon upon entering and quickly abandoned their progeny to chat happily with their comrades, causing the rest of our little group to move forward without them.

Which means that presently, I am walking around a kriffing animal pen with Amidala, Sola, Darred and their two devil children; Ryoo and Pooja.

_Joy_.

This little jaunt is highly unbefitting a Sith Lord, the homeyness of it making me want to puke. If this trip continues in this vein, the Naberries will have me wearing an apron and baking fucking holiday cookies in the kitchen.

I'll slaughter them _all_ before I allow that to happen!

Jaw clenching at the thought, I shake my head and focus on the matter at hand. I've never been to a zoo before, and this experience told me it would have been better if it had been left that way. This place is disgusting and smells like animal shit: I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to get the smell out of my clothes.

We have been in this filthy cesspit for only a little while when the children spot a Nubian cloud candy stand.

They squeal.

"Mama, Daddy!" they scream, eyes wide with excitement, as though there is nothing in the world they want more than that spool of sugary death, "can we have some candy, please, please, _please_?"

Their pleas are so heartfelt and nerve racking in conjunction that it leaves me a bit dizzy. I turn and look at the stand calculatingly. If that candy will get these hellspawn to shut up, then _I'll_ buy it.

Seeing me frowning slightly at the candy stand, Sola turns to look at me seriously. "You don't want to do that, Anakin," Sola says sternly, glaring at me, "do not get them candy."

I smirk.

Unsurprisingly, it appears as though Sola isn't the brightest Naberrie in the family. That she would give me a weapon to use against her is foolish and juvenile; it's obvious that the lack of political training has made her less savvy then the rest of them. It's no matter, though, I have never had much mercy for the weak and stupid and Sola being Amidala's sister means nothing to me. It's quite simple. I'm going to pump her two brats full of highly concentrated sucrose, then grab Amidala and make our escape, leaving Sola and her insipid husband with two high-on-sugar-children.

And she'll remember this day forever as the one in which foolishly challenged the Sith.

Filled with vicious glee, I nod, as though in compliance and we continue to walk, to the silent wails of the children and the palpable relief of the adults.

Moments later, though, Sola and Darred declare the need for a refresher break which, according to the zoo map, is about a fifteen minute walk behind us. They leave the children with us as they go, the girls having used it not too long ago. And as soon as they leave, I pull Amidala aside.

"Are the children allergic to the cloud candy?" I ask quickly, eyes intent on her.

Her eyebrow rises as she shrugs and her lips twitch as though she's holding back a smile, "No," she says with a shake of her head, "they're not."

With a nod, I quickly move back to the cloud candy cart. Fortunately, there is no one in line and I'm able to get two sticks of it in no time.

When I return to them, only a few minutes have passed, giving me plenty of time to coax the girls into eating the whimsical candy.

I don't have to.

As soon as I appear with the treat, they snatch it out of my hands with such force and speed that they very nearly take my appendages with them. I look at them in shock and barely disguised disgust, aghast by their behavior, as they devour the sweets as though they've never eaten before.

Is such behavior normal for younglings? They're tearing into the confit like _animals_.

But slowly, I relax, smirking in satisfaction as the two girls express their glee and finish their candy, throwing the white cardboard whirls in the trash after devouring it all. Even now, I can see the effects of the sugar hitting their bloodstreams; their eyes widen and the Force nearly trembles with the sudden burst of energy emanating from their small bodies.

Good, very good. Now, we just have to wait. I fold my arms as Pooja and Ryoo began to laugh and play with each other, Amidala standing next to me, her face turned away from me looking toward the way we're going.

Suddenly, she nudges me, a wide, gleeful smile on her face.

Frowning, I turn to see what she's so happy about. There, peeking around the corner of a couple of tall bushes stands Sola and Darred.

I frown at them; How had they gotten ahead of us? They were supposed to be using the refresher and that's _behind _us…

I still as my mind began working overtime. Surely…?

As though to confirm the horrible revelation flooding through me, Sola smirks at me deviously and then disappears behind the bushes, a smug Darred doing the same mere seconds later.

My mouth drops in horror and my nose flares as they vanish.

"They knew I was going to give the girls candy, didn't they?" I state to a nearly hysterically amused Amidala, "They lied about the break and doubled around to watch me foolishly fall into their trap."

"Yep," she states around her peals of laughter, "they did."

I can only stare down at her in disbelief as she valiantly tries to hold in her laughter only tearing my gaze away from her when I feel a tugging on my shirt. An _actual _tugging.

I look down and freeze as I make eye contact with two wide-eyed, brown eyed, little girls.

"We want more candy," Pooja says with excitement, her jaws still sticky from the cloud candy. "I want the blue one this time."

"And I want the pink one," Ryoo chimes in happily, hopping from one foot to the next as though the very thought excites her so much she cannot stand still, "we want it now please."

"No," I growl in irritation, unable to believe that I had been tricked, "no more candy!"

They look at me with quickly filling eyes. I stare at them stoically, unmoved by their tears. When they see that I mean business, they shrug, their tears quickly and mysteriously drying up, and run to gaze with awe upon a slaatik hagworm sealed in a protected enclosure nearby.

Manipulative _little_…!

I stare at the little politicians-in-training before turning to Amidala, who's still struggling with her laughter, "Com your sister and tell to her and her husband to bring their asses back here _now_," I tell her dangerously, murderously.

"How am I going to do that" she asks in exasperation, a wide smile on her lips, "they left their coms with us." She holds up the devices in her hands.

"Are you telling me that your sister left us with her two demons?" I ask incredulously, struggling with so many emotions, I'm not sure which one I should run with.

"You shouldn't have given them sugar," Amidala says, finally taking control of her laughter, but her eyes still gleaming with mirth.

My nostrils flare, face twitching with impotent frustration.

"_Where_ is your sister, Amidala?" I repeat through gritted teeth.

"Gone, clearly," she continues much too happily for me, "this war you have going on with Sola is ridiculous. And to be fair, she told you not to give the girls sugar. But you did and…" her voice trails off as she informs me merrily, "…these are _your _monsters now. Maybe now you won't think her dumb because she didn't formally go into politics."

Before I can respond to her statement, Pooja and Ryoo run to us.

"Uncle Ani! Uncle Ani," the girls begin to scream as they run _pass_ Amidala to _me_, "let's go to another exhibit!"

"_Uncle Ani_?!" I thunder incredulously, eyes shooting veritable daggers at Amidala.

"Yep," she says, her musical laughter building again, "you gave them sugar and now they're _your _responsibility."

I can only stare at her as Ryoo and Pooja, showing no fear of me and my obviously bad temper, each grab me by a hand and began pulling me in opposite directions.

For a moment, I cannot believe that this is happening. How has the Dark Lord of the Sith been reduced to _this_? The pun to a joke and a toy to be fought over between children?

I look at a gleeful Amidala who stands with arms folded and a very satisfied look on her face, and two very energetic little girls, each trying to pull me in the direction they want to go and I sorrow.

This is going to be a _long_ day.

#*#*#*#*#

I drop into my bed with a groan, finally allowing my exhausted body to collapse.

I cannot believe this, I just… _can't _believe this.

I have endured physical conditioning that others can only dream of, have fought for several days straight, destroying my way through hoards of enemies; I have trained until my body literally just ceased, dropping me to the floor. So why the fuck am I so tired after watching two little girls for a _few hours_?

I should be walking around, preparing to put my body through a couple of sets of exercises or gearing up to meditate on the Force, but I'm _not_. I'm actually lying here on my bed liked a dying gundark and am planning to remain thusly for a good long while.

And it's _unconscionable_.

There's a knock on the door.

"Go away," I yell at it, fuming. Though I have learned much about children this day and can admit that the excursion to the zoo wasn't _all_ bad, the fact that I, Anakin Skywalker, Dark Lord of the Sith, was forced to do it without it relating to my plan to rule the galaxy, is unacceptable.

"Go away," I repeat as the door is knocked on again.

"No," a voice responds cheerfully. I can tell from the voice that it's a man and it's not Ruwee, so there's only one person it can be.

I grab my new lightsaber, hanging within the confines of my cloak, and finger it longingly. Force damn my need to retain Amidala's trust because I could have happily slaughtered her whole family by now. Clever of her to get my promise not to harm them before I got to see how annoying they were.

Very clever.

I consider the person standing on the other side of the door. So far, I've been politely threatened by Ruwee Naberrie, exposed by Jobal Naberrie, pranked by Sola Naberrie and tormented by Pooja and Ryoo Naberrie. Darred Naberrie is the only Naberrie who hasn't fucked with my head.

Seems that's about to change.

It's a testament to Naboo's culture that a man would take on his wife's name. Not traditional among humans by any means, but a testament to the adaptability of Nubians. But I can't bring myself to give a krif about Nubians and their fucking naming practices right now. I'm more concerned about why Darred Naberrie is at my door when all I want to do is to rest _by myself_.

"I'm not going to go away, so you might as well open the door," he says in a sing-song voice, it grating on my nerves.

I grip my lightsaber tightly once more before releasing it with annoyance, allowing it to find it's place in the depths of my cloak.

I rise slowly and open the door, then rudely move back to my bed as soon as his face appears.

"What do you want?" I ask surlily, allowing my body to fall carelessly on the bed with a thump.

"Just to talk," he says, sitting down on the sofa without invitation.

"Not in the mood," I reply shortly, shifting my arms comfortably behind my head.

"I can see that," Darred says calmly, "but you're leaving in a bit and this may be our only chance."

I say nothing, merely raises an eyebrow, "You're not going to threaten me or anything like that, are you?"

"Goodness, no," Darred responds, appalled, "besides, I'm sure Ruwee covered that."

"He did," I mutter, frowning slightly. Kriffing Ruwee Naberrie is the one who started this whole introspection foolishness.

We fall silent for a moment before Darred speaks again.

"You know, I met Sola when I was a first year at Naboo University. I was studying septic engineering and she… well, I have no idea why she was there," he says with a smile. "It was a causal meeting at first and when we parted ways, I admit, I didn't give her another thought. But then, we just kept running into one another and soon, I invited her go on a friendly date with me. Ten minutes into it, I was a goner. I knew I had found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Funnily enough, it wasn't until after we were seriously dating, and it was time to meet her family, that she admitted that she was a member of _the_ Naberrie family."

I blink, listening to him despite myself: There seems to always be an interesting story to be had from this family. And although my first reaction to his confession was scathing, I suppose that it would have been foolish to assume that Sola was part of the politically royal Naberries when there were other Naberries of no relation in the area.

"To say I was shocked would be an understatement. You have to understand: The Naberrie name _means_ something here on Naboo and to know that I was dating a daughter of the family… Well, it blew my mind and filled me with doubt, and when word got out, well… so too did the naysayers. They told me that I would never be the man of the house because Sola was a _Naberrie_; she would make me look soft, would wear the pants and make me less of a man. That was only confirmed when the Naberrie's fame exploded to even greater heights when Padmé was elected as Queen," he stopped and looked at me with a frown. "I admit that I allowed them to get to me and I even added some discouragement myself during all this.

"Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I broke up with her," he pauses and shakes his head, a wry smile on his face, "It only took me a day to realize what I fool I was. Sola… brought light into my life, gave me purpose. Don't misread me, I didn't have a bad life and I wasn't in dire straits when I met her, but there was just something about Sola Naberrie that made me incredibly and deliriously happy. I went to her the next day and begged her to take me back. She didn't of course. It took me six months to win back her trust, and another to get her to agree to marry me: I even promised that I would take her last name because of the pull that it had."

"And your point in telling me all of this?" I ask curiously, no real venom in the question.

"My point is that only _you_ can choose who you are. Only you get to decide what is appropriate for you or not, not anyone else," he states seriously, staring at me, "If you want Padmé, if you want to be with her, you must be willing to do anything to have her. I gave up my name and many of my aspirations to be with Sola, but what I gained was so much more than what I lost. Don't lose because of what or who you think you are, or because of who or what someone else told you that you are and what you should have. Decide what you want and if that's Padmé, bend like a kriffing Nubian pretzel if you have to, in order to keep her."

I stare at him, and just… continue to stare. This family is just… too much. Do I have a sign on my forehead that says, "Attention: Sith Lord in crisis?"

"Oh and do you want to know a secret?" he continues brightly, leaning closer in his chair toward me.

"Do I have a choice?" I ask, even as I sit up and lean forward at the waist so I can look him in the eye.

"If a Naberrie woman loves you, they're not going to want to change you, not really. They're just going to ask that you follow their code of morality and right. That's it. If you do that, to the best of your ability, then you're in."

Silence falls as I frown, mulling over his words.

Clearing his throat, Darred rises.

"That's all I wanted to say, Anakin," he says matter-of-factly, "it's what my father told me when I was at a crossroads, so I thought I'd share the story with you. Whatever you choose to do, Anakin, do it soon. Padmé won't wait forever."

He looks at me for a moment longer and then stands, smiling,"Welcome to the family, Anakin Skywalker."

And then he is gone, the door closing behind him with a soft thud.

I stare at the door for a moment before lowering myself back to the bed.

I have much to think about.

#*#*#*#*#

Our next and last day passes quickly at the Naberrie's home and before I know it, the time to return to Coruscant is only a night's rest away.

Amidala sits at her vanity station, staring in the mirror at herself and occasionally at me as prepares herself for the night, "We have to leave tomorrow morning,"she says to me quietly, as I stand in the corner, watching her brush her hair with slow strokes.

"I know," I respond in kind, mesmerized by the gentle movement of her hands.

"I… I'm going to miss them," she confesses, sadness descending over her features like rainclouds.

"I know," I repeat again, gently.

She pauses, placing her brush down and turning to face me.

"Ever since… the invasion," she begins softly, "I have felt adrift, disconnected from everyone… _alone, _even here. But for the first time since that happened, this place truly feels like home. And I… thank _you_, Ani."

I look at her in surprise. "Why are you thanking me?" I ask with furrowed brows, staring at her in confusion.

"Well, your initial asinine behavior forced to me act as though I was perfectly fine, when I really wasn't," she explains seriously, with a nod, "but the more I acted, the more natural it became. Forcing my problems aside allowed me to see my family and to remember how blessed I am to have them, to remember how much fun we all have when we're together."

"Thank you, Amidala," I respond gravely, amused at her words, "I'm glad my bitchiness could be of service."

"It was," she says softly, eyes full of gratitude, "thank you for what you've done these past few days, for keeping your word and for being kind to my family. I know it wasn't easy."

I nod at her, uncomfortable with her thanks, especially considering how many times I fantasized about running them through with my lightsaber.

"It wasn't all bad although I only got to fuck you _once_," I say, folding my arms across my chest as though annoyed, "so I'm glad _you_ got something out of this trip."

She laughs, causing my heart to skip a kriffing beat, before moving to thump me on the chest, "When we return to Coruscant, we'll do some role play. Consider it a reward for good behavior."

"Role play?" I say in surprised delight, a lecherous smirk touching my lips as I remember my first vision: Role play had happened there too. Is this a sign that I'm making the right decisions? "What did you have in mind?"

"Oh nothing, just the big bad Sith 'overpowering' a solo, female Jedi Knight," she says sensually, moving away from me, her eyes regarding me at half mast.

By the Force, if my dick didn't just become hard enough to break down a door.

"You would do that?" I demand in surprise, moving toward her, stalking her as a hunter does its pray.

"Yes, I would… for you," she says softly as I reach her, roughly pulling her into my arms, pressing her small, soft body against my much larger, _much_ harder one, "I even know where to get the costume."

Her eyes widen as she feels my rod against her and then she blushes, burying a shy smile in my chest. By the Force if her mood swings don't amuse me, entice me, _draw_ me. She's so many things in one that I never know what to expect and it's kriffing fantastic.

"I should go before I force your family to hear me fucking you into oblivion," I growl, holding her tight for a moment longer before attempting to push her away.

She resists.

"No," she states quietly, looking into my eyes, the intense brown of her irises steady on me, "I want you to stay here… with me."

My heart skips another beat.

I try to be nonchalant about her words, but a strange warmth is filling in my chest and I… I like it.

I nod, not at all chivalrous enough to ask her if she was sure she wanted me to stay.

With a smirk, I pull her into my arms, bridal style, and carry her to the bed.

As I lay her down there, her hair spreads like a brown halo, framing her body and piercing my heart with a nameless, viciously benign emotion.

"You are so… _beautiful_," I murmur, looking down at her, "like an angel."

She smiles at me and she looks so happy, that the sudden, increased burst of warmth in my chest nearly makes me dizzy… I want her to look this way forever, be so happy forever.

In that moment, I know that all the shit I've endured trying to keep up with the fucking Naberries, being nice to them and curbing my murderous instincts becomes worth it just to see this look on her face.

"So are you," she responds, her eyes glowing with a deep, intense emotion, that I nearly have to look away.

I blink slowly a fleeting smile touching my lips as I continue to look down at her. Then, with a tug of my wrist, she pulls me down and I sprawl beside her.

After a moment of adjustment, we are laying on our sides with her back pressed to my chest.

And I fall asleep with a strand of her hair curled around my finger and the heavenly scent of her body surrounding me like cloud candy.

#*#*#*#*#

It's early in the morning and Naboo's sun is just now making an appearance, painting the sky in an array of purple and orange.

I watch from the speeder as she hugs her family goodbye. I myself have already given my farewells, more uncomfortable than I'd like to admit with their displays of affection towards me. It's been so long since someone's tried to hug me that it made me feel _soft _to receive one, and honestly, it makes me want to go out into the street and kill someone, just to reaffirm my Sithliness.

Preferably by Force choking.

I shift in the speeder as Amidala finally pulls away from her family and moves toward me. It is obvious that it is difficult for her to say goodbye to them, but all of them are trying to put on a brave, strong front.

I can safely say that I now understand her love for her home world. Naboo is a paradise; that coupled with the relationship she has with her family does indeed make this a safe place.

And personally, I have to admit that this visit wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Untimely, but not unpleasant. This was not the best time for me to leave Coruscant, but I still cannot regret it. I have learned much here both about myself and Amidala.

I know I have choices to make in regards to my future, in regards to Amidala and still… I do not know what to do. My desire to rule is still strong. I want Amidala, but I _need_ to rule: It's my right. And according to one of my visions, it is possible to have both, but how?

The speeder barely moves at all as Amidala climbs into it, her unique smell flooding my nostrils as she sits next to me.

She waves at her family, incredible sadness flashing over her face before disappearing behind a facade of strength. Putting the speeder into gear, I back away as the Naberries smile back. With a nod to them, I pull away, gradually picking up speed as we hit the road toward the hangar housing our ship.

Tomorrow evening is the meeting for the peace talks, and it is _very_ important to my plans. Everything will be infinitely more difficult if it does not go the way I want.

My concern is for the Supreme Chancellorship. The time to get rid of Interim Chancellor Valorum is near and I have to secure his position in order for my plans to progress. The irony doesn't escape me that the biggest obstacle to my plans is sitting next to me, fighting tears. She will be devastated when she loses the Chancellorship to me, and when the extent of my plans become known to her…

I release a deep breath at the thought; to say that Amidala will be displeased to learn that I am orchestrating the Galactic war is the understatement of all time. But I will deal with that when the problem is nigh. For now, I will focus on advancing my plans.

Suddenly, my line of thought is broken as Amidala takes my hand.

I pause for a moment and look down at our entwined fingers. I look up at her and she is already watching me, waiting to meet my gaze. Blinking once, and then twice, she squeezes my hand, a fleeting smile appearing on her beautiful face.

The same warmth from last night shoots through me, tingling up my arm and down to my chest at the look in her eyes.

It strengthens my resolve. The visions do much to warn me but they are not set in stone, evidenced by the great variations in them. It is within my power to have Amidala, to keep her close.

And I will do it, because no matter what, I cannot lose her.

Amidala must remain mine.

End of Chapter 25: **Please review guys**.

**Chapter 26: Talks**: The conference to find a solution to end the war takes a surprising turn.

A/N: The plot will be moving quickly from here on as I want to bring this fic to an end. This chapter was long because of the over long wait which I do apologize for. I hope you've enjoyed the story thus far. Review and tell me where you think it's going to go and/or what you'd like to see. Who knows, I might incorporate your idea. Also, thank you to my reviewers for last chapter:

Kyuubi123, JourneyRocks13, D4rthFyr3, ILDV, TheLaughingMan1, Rachie81, Loteva, DVNIKKI, Shika352617, female'wraith, dragonball256, madscientifistproduction.01, Young at Heart21, badkidoh, masterdisk, Freefan1412, Imperial warlord, ambre, sharp52092, phhsdj, ItSMeAmbeR, Vaneesa85, angie, didi, Libquedation, Jared Haas, jokehead, Graybiel, pinkolifant, Silent Jay, Rookworm, Ronwyn The Queen of Darkness, O, Mal, apple, Diz, starveforupdates, starlight, Sara, TroubleIsAFriend and 12 guests.

Thank you so much for your encouragement. Also, a special thanks to ambre. I swear this girl has read/reviewed every single thing I've done on my website. Thank you so much for your support. It's truly priceless.


	26. Talks

**Chapter 26: Talks**

**_D_**_arth _**_V_**_ader_

The ride from Naboo to Coruscant is made in silence.

Soon after we left her home world, Amidala moved to the back of the ship and there she has remained.

I continue to pilot the ship, pleased that we are returning to Coruscant, it being only a half hour away. Naboo was… different, a vision of grass, rolling hills and water, something I am very much unaccustomed to even after all my years being free of Tatooine's desert and Sidious' fiery hellhole prison.

Amidala's family was even more unusual with their intelligence, wit and obvious love for her… and their subsequent acceptance of me. Almost made my contemptible behavior around them tolerable… almost.

But now I am free of them and returning to my comfort zone… and my plans. So much has been neglected due to my poorly-timed decision to follow Amidala, but I must trust that Darth Maul has dealt appropriately with everything in my absence. I will see as soon as I am back, indeed, he is already awaiting my return, knowing that I expect a full and detailed report on all that has occurred.

For the past year I have been picking up the pieces of Sidious' operations; using my puppet Darth Maul as the new Sith Lord and pulling the strings behind the Galactic War, controlling the Trade Federation and even personally traveling to Polis Massa to… amend the protocols for Sidious' greatest contribution to my impending rule: Order 66.

Thus far, everything has gone as planned and it has been relatively straightforward, if not sometimes time consuming, to smooth out any bumps. But now, the next step must be taken. I need to become Supreme Chancellor; it is the most efficient way to pull off my coup. The Republic is assigning more and more power to Interim Supreme Chancellor Valorum in the face of increasing hostilities between the Republic and the Trade Federation, and so the time to rid myself of him is nigh… but how?

In a time of peace, he would have been a tolerable leader, if not rather mediocre and forgettable, but now, in a time of war; his weakness is quickly being realized… and condemned. But he has not made any serious mistakes, so how to remove him? It is a problem I must solve soon.

The talks tomorrow should prove useful in doing so. Between controlling the Trade Federation and my excursions with Amidala, I have had little time to actually meet the Supreme Chancellor. The proceedings will be a prime opportunity to study him and form my plan of attack. From what I have heard of him, finding a way to oust him should not be difficult.

I am drawn out of my thoughts as the console beeps, indicating a drop out of hyperspace.

Good. Coruscant is where I need to be right now, I can feel it. The Force is drawn tight like a bowstring; it is a tangible thing and the tension surely signifies that the time of my destiny is rapidly approaching.

The assemblage tomorrow must move in favor of continued aggressive action. If peace should be reached, my plans will die. That cannot be allowed to happen. It will be a task; looking the peacemaker while supporting the war, but I am capable of it. The most pressing concern is avoiding detection by Amidala.

I turn to face the entrance to the back of the ship, the doorway through which she had disappeared hours ago.

Amidala is shrewd, incredibly and sometimes irritatingly so. Tricking her will be, by far, the most difficult task ahead.

I stare at the entrance for a moment longer before returning my attention to the controls, imputing the necessary credentials to the appropriate channels to enter the planet.

Her intuitiveness and cleverness will serve me well in the future, but now, it's just a pain in my ass.

I shake my head as I lock myself into my seat, trusting that Amidala is aware of the safety protocols when going planet side.

The pressure in the cabin shifts as our descent into the atmosphere begins and I frown the closer we move to our destination.

The Force presence on Coruscant has shifted. Ashla, the light side of the Force, is stronger here than it was when I left and the Force isn't as murky… as cloudy.

It's the Jedi, something has happened with the Jedi.

I close my eyes, seeking guidance through the Force.

Usually, I can only sense about a few hundred Jedi in the Temple, but now I feel more of them, _much_ more, as though a great deal of the Jedi have been pulled back to the Temple.

It disturbs me _greatly_. The Jedi are the generals of the war, the front men. What would cause the Jedi Council to compel their knights to abandon their posts across the galaxy?

I tilt my head as though listening to something even as I delve more deeply into my meditative state.

They are searching for me through the Force even now and their efforts are much more concentrated, as though all their resources are being put forth to find me.

I open my eyes, an underlying feeling of urgency multiplying exponentially within me.

Why the sudden change? They have been active in searching for me for a while, but not with this zeal. This is not good. Something has happened and I must know what.

What could cause the Jedi to go into such a panic, to frighten them enough to risk their reputation around the galaxy by withdrawing their Knights at such a dangerous juncture, what could possibly…?

I freeze, a thought too catastrophic to pursue, surfacing in my mind.

Nothing terrifies like the knowledge of impending doom. Had the Jedi found out about my failsafe, about Order 66? No, they couldn't have. I took care of all the loose ends myself. The only ones who knows about it are the clones who are not allowed to speak of it and myself. Not even Darth Maul knows.

It must be something else, but what could I have missed? No matter; whatever it is, the Jedi's increasing efforts to find me has hastened their destruction. The sooner I rid myself of them, the better.

I still as remnants of one of my earlier visions flashes before my eyes. In that vision, I had had children with Amidala and the Jedi still existed. It was the only such conception that did not promise utter despair.

But even with that vision promising a life I have never even _dreamt_ of, the thought of living in harmony with the Jedi Order, of letting go of my hate, _sickens_ me to no end. After what they've done to me…

I want them to _burn_.

The rage that was born from their rejection of me, the fury that I experienced when Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi crash landed on Tatooine has never faded, will _never_ fade. I was just seven years old when they arrived and even though they knew I was Force sensitive, even though I _begged_ them for help for my mother and me, and even after I helped repair their kriffing ship, they still left me on that dead, barren rock to _rot_. It's their fault I was on Tatooine to be captured by Sidious, it's their fault I was separated from my mother, that I have become… _this_.

All their fault.

But perhaps I should thank them for abandoning me… right after I watch their Temple go up in flames.

No… I won't spare the Jedi. The visions are only a small glimpse of the possibilities the future hold. The Jedi will perish by my command, and Amidala will still be mine.

I am Darth Vader, doing such is well within my power.

There is no future for Jedi; they must die.

There is no other option.

#*#*#*#*#

It is early afternoon, when we finally touchdown in the docking bay of 500 Republica. As soon as our ship's engine stops, Amidala emerges from the back of the transport and leaves without a word.

Curious at her behavior, I allow her to depart without commenting, watching her through the viewing screen as she moves steadily toward her apartment.

With the talks tomorrow, it is likely she will remain in her apartment to prepare herself. I have no qualms that she will try to run and hide from me again. We are beyond that… and she knows that I will find her wherever she goes.

No, I am the last thing on her mind at the moment. She is preoccupied with the task ahead, of unknowingly being my nemesis in pushing for a peaceful solution to this conflict and Amidala is nothing if not prepared. She will review the latest available information on the status of the war and pull up specifics on the other delegates to be well acquainted with the stances of each.

At the moment, I do not care what she does. As long as I know where to find her, it is safe to let her be for now.

There are other, more pressing matters that require my attention.

#*#*#*#*#

As expected, Maul is already present when I arrive at our designated meeting place.

It is a small, dank, dark room in the lower levels with all the filth and human refuse adorning its perimeter that one might expect in such a place.

"Darth Maul," I greet coldly, getting straight to business, "I hope you have good news for me."

My subordinate is garbed in his usual dark cloak, it being pushed back so that the whole of his face and head are revealed to me.

"I regret to report that I do not, Master," he responds in his raspy voice, yellow eyes studying me. "The Jedi are amassing at the Temple in great numbers. Their presence on the planet has nearly tripled and more are pouring in."

"Yes, I have felt it," I reply, frowning, "why are they returning?"

"The information has not yet been confirmed, Master, but our spies have reported that Master Yoda himself ordered the recall," he replied grimly. "It has something to do with a vision he had on a recent trip to Kamino."

The Force stirs deeply and furiously within me at my sudden flurry of emotion and I can feel my countenance becoming menacing and more Sith-like at Maul's revelation.

I had known that the Jedi would visit the Planet of Storms to keep a close eye on the clones, but it had never been a concern because I had foreseen it, needed it for my plans. But _this_, this was not at all accounted for.

Had the Force sent the Jedi a warning of some kind? With this reaction from the Order, that's the only thing it could be. But why would it _do_ that?

Why would the Force be working _against_ me? _Why_? I am the chosen one, selected by the Force itself to rule the galaxy.

This… this is _not_ right.

"Find out what the vision entailed, Maul," I order quietly, my mind racing with the implication. "I don't care if you have to capture and torture a Jedi Knight. You can abduct a member of the kriffing Jedi Council _itself_ if you have to: I _want to know_ what was seen."

"Yes, my Master," he answers immediately only to hesitate. "There is more," he continues finally, a few moments later.

I cease my musings over the Jedi's behavior and nod, "Speak," I command tersely.

"The Separatist leaders are getting restless. The displacement of Darth Sidious has left them discontented and suspicious. They question your power… and your intentions. They fear another change of leadership."

"Who is the cause of this dissent?" I ask, an icy anger building within. There is always someone willing to challenge me. That it is the Trade Federation Directorate requires my immediate and complete attention.

"It is Rute Gunnay, the advisor to Viceroy Gunray, my lord. As of now, the Viceroy has been silent on the issue, but has done nothing to quell the growing murmurs."

"They will pay for their treachery," I state, allowing my growing rage to color my voice, "they will not doubt me again after I am done with them."

"It may not be that simple, my Master. Viceroy Nute Gunray has left the Citadel. Our spies followed, but it seems as though he knew he was being watched and was able to escape detection through a passing asteroid field. We have, as of now, been unable to locate his current whereabouts."

My gaze turns sharp at this. It is rare that Gunray ventures from his secure fortress on Cato Nemoidia, terrified of an assassination attempt, especially since Sidious' defeat. It seems as though my former jailer's death is still having a rippling effect throughout the galaxy, damn him.

"Those bugs are becoming a pain in my ass. Seems as though the Trade Federation's Executive Board has worn out their welcome," I reply with terrifying calm, "perhaps more direct control of the Federation is now in order."

"Would you like me to dispose of them, Master?" Maul's voice is deep with deadly seriousness.

"I cannot," I say finally, more than a little displeased with this, "they are still working with the Geonosians on the plans for my battle station. As long as it remains unfinished, I still need those little shits. What of the status?"

"The data plans for the battlestation have been… delayed, Master. I believe it to be purposeful on the part of the Executive Board."

Delayed…

Yes, the Trade Federation is testing me, pushing me. But they will see that it was not good to push a Sith Lord, to test Darth Vader.

"Find Nute Gunray and do not lose him again. I will deal with him and the insurrectionists myself: I have a _special_ demonstration planned for them. Then impress upon the Geonosians the severity of my displeasure with them at the delay. As for the Trade Federation… begin phasing the Directorate out of any dealings regarding the battlestation completely. The Geonosians are now to deal directly with you on all matters pertaining to the plans for my station."

"Yes, Master," bowing low, Darth Maul turns, taking my instructions as the dismissal it is and disappears, silent as a shadow.

I stand where I am for a moment, allowing the information given to sink in. The Trade Federation is testing my authority and not only delaying my plans for a militarized battle station but jeopardizing my takeover of the Republic. Their defiance is endangering all that I've worked for.

I should be angry, but I'm not, not anymore.

I smile and it is a vicious, amused thing. This development may be just what I need to reacquaint myself with the Dark Side of the Force. Being with Amidala, with her family, has softened me in ways I do not like, has placed me in a situation where I am forced to be Anakin Skywalker.

But the Trade Federation… with them I will be who I truly am: Darth Vader.

No, I look forward to fixing this mess and fix it I will.

And the Trade Federation will never challenge me again.

#*#*#*#*#

She opens the door in a bathrobe.

I pause and look at her, my gaze going up and down her body as a furious glare descends over my features.

It had not been a difficult decision to seek Amidala after my meeting with Darth Maul. It would have been better to return to my own apartment and meditate, but I did not want to. I have given up chastising myself for desiring her company. Somehow, Amidala has managed to bypass the dangerous and stringent filters and restrictions of a Sith Lord.

It is done and I am tired of fighting it.

"Is this how you usually answer the door? Half naked?" I ask coldly, as she gives me a flippant look and rudely turns her back to me to move toward her bedroom.

"I'm hardly naked, Skywalker, and considering it's two in the morning, you're lucky I opened the door for your ass at all at rather than shoot you through the door," she responds with a sleepy glare. "The only thing that stopped me from doing _that_ was the fact that you probably would have dodged my shot and then hacked my system… _again_."

"You're getting to know me well, Amidala," I purr, allowing the door to close behind me as I enter.

"Why are you here?" she asks tiredly, "the talks are tomorrow and I need my sleep. So can we not argue, bicker, or whatever the hell you came over here to do tonight? I promise I'll show you a good time tomorrow."

I throw her a sardonic look, "Cute, Amidala," I answer, turning toward her bedroom.

And as I move, I can almost feel her growing frown boring into my back.

She follows me.

"Don't you have a bed?" she asks angrily, "I'm sure that even _you_ need to sleep."

"I do have a bed and I do plan to sleep," I return with a wink, turning to face her.

"Then you can do it at your own apartment."

"Or I can simply stay here," I say cheekily, cheerfully, as I remove my robes, sliding into her bed and under the covers.

She stares at me for a minute, a mutinous and stubborn expression on her face before she shrugs carelessly.

"Fine," she states crossly, "I'll sleep on the couch."

Crossing my arms behind my back and without a word, I reach out with the Force.

"Skywalker, what are you doing?" she asks, her voice thick with controlled panic as an invisible hand grabs her by the arm and pulls her toward the bed… toward me.

"I want you to sleep here," I say simply when she is finally within reaching distance, pulling her onto the bed and close to me, burying my head into her sweet smelling hair.

"You're going to pay for this," she says around a yawn, as she shifts on the bed in search of the sweet spot, "just you wait. You're lucky I'm just too sleepy to be bothered right now."

I chuckle softly, merely shifting again until I am completely comfortable.

I can immediately sense when she loses her battle with consciousness and falls asleep. Soon, I follow her.

And all is silent.

#*#*#*#*#

I will never get used to waking up next to her.

It is about five in the morning and she is awake and staring at me, an adorable scowl adorning her face.

"I thought I had a nightmare last night only to wake up and find that it's true; you did come here last night," she says testily in greeting.

"Do you always wake up in the morning this grumpy?" I ask curiously.

"Only when my house has been invaded."

"So the answer would be yes," I continue cheerfully, ignoring her.

She glares at me, "We don't have time for this, Skywalker. The talks are in a few hours and I need to prepare."

"You prepared last night," I respond matter-of-factly, moving nary a muscle.

"Preparation doesn't end until the end has come."

"Did you just make that up?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, amusement heavy in my voice.

"Yes, if you must know," she responds in annoyance, trying to mask her growing amusement at my playfulness, "which makes my little quote all the more awesome. Now, you need to go."

"I will," I state looking at her closely, "after this."

And before she can protest, I am kissing her and my hand is inside of her stroking her and all protests die as pleasure begins to shoot through her body.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

#*#*#*#*#

It was difficult, but I cut our fucking time to about an hour.

I lie on my side, watching her with pure male satisfaction as I lazily and with extreme entitlement, run my hands along her body.

Her chest is heaving in exertion and her body is languid and relaxed under my roaming fingers.

"You've had your fun," she says hotly, or at least, as hotly as she can manage being short of breath, "now, get out."

"We've both had fun, Amidala," I respond cheerfully, "or else I mistook your yells of 'harder, harder you bastard!' for misery."

With an effort, she sits up and glares at me, her face as red as a tomato. I stare back down at her for a moment before leaning over and catching her pink lips. Force, they're so soft, juicy and succulent. Nothing in the universe can possibly taste better, except for, perhaps, her other lips down below.

She sighs into me as my tongue lays waste to her mouth. Gentle stroking, probing, devouring her mouth, claiming her as my own.

Finally, after a few minutes of consuming her, I draw away, more content than I can explain with the swollen plumpness of her lips.

Giving her lips one last nip, I rise from the bed with extreme reluctance.

"I really must depart now," I say with mock exasperation, glaring at her, "I've allowed your raging libido to keep me here long enough. We'll see one another again at the talks."

With a bow, I bid a hasty exit and just as the door shuts behind me, I hear the force of a thrown shoe hit it.

Shaking my head in amusement, I head for my apartment, my thoughts steadily moving away from the warm comfort and sexual energy of Amidala to the seriousness of what lies ahead.

The talks will soon begin and I will be ready.

The show is about to begin.

#*#*#*#*#

The meeting is just about to start when she finally strolls confidentially into the room. Looking at her, you'd never know she'd been panting under my hands only a little while ago.

My eyes narrow with blazing satisfaction as she walks pass me speak to a delegate, sparing me nary a glance. I smirk when I notice the smallest hint of red on her neck, a mark I deliberately made during our earlier encounter. It gives me fierce pleasure to know that I have marked my time with her so. Sitting back in my chair, I take that time to admire her authoritative stride as she greets person after person. Heads turn when she enters the room; she immediately commands attention wherever she goes. She is so poised, so regal… yes, she will indeed make a fitting Empress.

I pause, images of our time together in the past few months floating before my eyes.

I remember her at the gala: She was so beautiful, dressed in that black, form fitting gown that hugged her every curve, looking down her nose upon the Galaxy in righteous indignation. Amidala presents a tough, indestructible persona to all, feeding her reputation as an Ice Woman with zeal. But she is vulnerable… so vulnerable and I saw it that night.

It was… _disconcerting_ how she clung to me when we danced, how she looked so deeply into my eyes that it was as though she could see through to my soul. As I stared into hers that night, I saw no lust, no reckless need for gain… just a desire to be held.

At first, I had had every intention of mocking her need… but… I didn't. The need to dominate—a need that was ever present—was _absent_. So, I simply danced with her, my mind for once, not on destroying the Jedi or manipulating the Senate. It was just on her, just in the moment.

It was strange… the feelings that came upon me as I twirled her around in my arms… strange, but not unpleasant.

Then our time in her apartment had been so _normal_. I had thought at first that I would despise such mundane interaction, but it had been unexpectedly enjoyable.

Finally, our time with her family had shown me what the word truly meant. I can have that with her, I _will_ have that with her. I have foreseen it. But it will be on my terms.

I will allow nothing less.

I quickly surface from my inner thoughts as Interim Supreme Chancellor Valorum enters and immediately calls the meeting to order.

"Welcome, Senators, to this assembly," he begins, looking around the room and I frown slightly as take in his appearance. He seems nervous… why? It instantly puts me on alert. Something is about to happen, I can feel it.

"We are all here because the situation with the Trade Federation has reached a critical point. If we do not find a peaceable solution, the war will spread and destroy even more lives. But we _do_ seek peace…" he pauses for a moment and shoots a glance at Amidala. "…And it is for this reason that I have invited a special guest for these talks."

I breathe deeply, the feel of uneasiness deepening to foreboding.

My nose flares and my face becomes an impenetrable, emotionless mask as the guest walks slowly into the room. I immediately turn to Amidala and I can see disbelief, horror and then an unbelievable fury run across her face before she becomes as expressionless as stone.

The room is silent as death as all look upon the visitor in stunned silence.

Then, finally, someone speaks.

It's Amidala.

"Nute Gunray," she says emotionlessly.

End of chapter 16: please review guys!

**Chapter 27: Breakdown:**Sometimes, there's no turning back.

A/N: So sorry for the delay guys. I had planned a big New Year's thing and it just didn't happen because I was sick for the majority of December. That being said, the rest of my New Year's surprise will be up soon. It includes a new Star Trek fic, a _possible_ update to **Chosen: Prolieum** (Star Wars) and an update to **The End of Everything **(BBC's Merlin).

Thank you to everyone who was so encouraging during my sickness; it was truly awful, a cold to end all colds, and I've been skittish about my health ever since.

Also, thank you also to those who reviewed last chapter. As I like to say, favorites are for readers, but reviews are for writers. It's what so many of us want, and if you check the author forums on this site, you'll see how true that is and how incredibly frustrated many authors are when they don't get them. But you guys are truly awesome and I really, really appreciate it. So to all those who reviewed last chapter, thank you. They were a huge pick me up while I was fighting to breathe, lol:

Tyler D, Decepticon-silverstreak (your review made me smile big time, by the way), KittyKati1, starveforupdates, Silent Jay, TroubleIsAFriend, rememberstawars, BIP BIP, Greaser's Palace, Vivss, Rookworm, lily5lace, jokehead, Libquedation, Young at Heart21, fanfic story girl, Me, Freefan1412, Glee Plane, FarmerJohn003, angie, Yami Aries, crumer, Starlight, Mal, diz, O, apple, Rachie81, badkidoh, Vanessah85, Skyrunner, JourneyRocks13, masterdisk, Imperial warlord, Nowa1, Me, dragonball256, Hello, IceForrest7, phhsdj, female'wraith, madscientistproduction.01, Sara, didi, ambre, Somebodyrandom, Loteva, pinkolifant, O..verP..owered, ILDV, d3c3pt10n, Jigoku no Yami, DVNIKKI, gnurd, sharp52092, JACarter, dalulzing and 12 guests.

Thank you so much, your reviews mean more to authors than you know.

One last thing: I am changing the URL to my site once again, but for the last time I think. I've really finally found a name I like. If you haven't been to my blog, check it out. The full version of all stories are there as is some all around awesome content. It's called Ink Well and the link to it is in my profile.

I think that's all for now guys. Please review and I'll see you for the next chapter which should be _really_ soon. Call it a apology for the overly long wait.


	27. Breakdown

**Warning: **Graphic content in this chapter including non-descriptive rape.

**Chapter 27: Breakdown**

_**D**__arth __**V**__ader_

I stare at Nute Gunray with one eyebrow raised, the implications of his presence here at the Republic's peace talks racing through my mind like a podracer competing in Tatooine's Boonta Eve Classic.

Nute kriffing Gunray is here, on Coruscant, the absolute _last_ place he should be.

I sit back in my chair, feeling my temper beginning to spike even as I am unable to help but be a little impressed with Gunray's audacity. Surely he knows that his actions will filter back to me, to Darth Vader, yet he has come here anyway.

Apparently, he is not as cowardly as everyone thinks.

Tilting my head, I contemplate him. This unexpected situation has rendered Gunray a volatile and unpredictable element which is unacceptable. He will not, of course, be allowed to live after this and his being here makes it easier to deal with his treachery. Now, not only will it be a lot simpler to make a statement to the Trade Federation, but it will also be sooner than I had originally intended.

Perhaps Gunray's presence here will work in my favor. Gunray, for all his hold on the Trade Federation, is not a negotiator. His presence here will do much more harm than good.

Perhaps this is not a bad thing at all.

A small, strangled sound draws my attention away from Gunray. Wrenching my gaze from the Nemoidian, I turn to Amidala.

Puzzled, my eyebrows draw together at the look on her face. Her eyes are wide with shock and she is poised at the edge of her seat, tense and tight like a spooked reekcat. With a nearly imperceptible shake of my head, I stare at her. I had thought I had seen true anger from her in those times I drew her ire, but that was nothing compared to how she looks now. The waves of negative energy coming off of her is so great that it's exciting the Dark Side within me.

Then like a singular strand of straw breaking the back of an already over burdened bantha, Amidala snaps.

I can see the exact moment that Amidala decides to attack. It's in her eyes; a reckless, deranged loathing that has driven all reason from her. But before she can rise from her seat even a little, I grab her arm tightly, forcing her to stay in her chair.

Her eyes immediately cut to me like sharp daggers hurtling toward a target, but I twist her arm painfully and pull her close to me until our noses are nearly touching, staring hard into her eyes.

Then the mask that she is holding onto so desperately drops and there is so much pain and anger in her eyes that I falter for a second.

In that moment she is as easy to read as a tome and, not for the first time, I see that Amidala harbors just as much hatred in her heart as I do. I can read her agony, her rage, _see_ the replay of memories as though it's a holovid playing in front of me. Her anguish, her sorrow, hits me in the stomach like a lightsaber to the abdomen.

It adds a new dimension to her character, one that I had seen before and ignored but now have no choice but to acknowledge. Amidala is more than a fun sparring partner, someone whose wit amuses me, a semi-reluctant fuck partner. She has feelings and emotions that go beyond annoyance, smugness and fleeting pleasantness. She is human and right now, she is in emotional _agony_.

I blink, unsettled by what she has revealed, that she has suddenly become _complicated _in a way that no one has before. My gaze snaps to Gunray and then back to Amidala as my mind begin to see the Nemoidian in a new light, in the way that Amidala surely sees him: As a rapist.

The transition of my thoughts is slightly startling as my view of Gunray shifts. Suddenly, Amidala's actions, her pain makes an incredible and uncomfortable amount of sense. She is one of Gunray's victims and is now being forced to sit in a meeting with him.

_Fuck_.

I, more than anyone, can understand a need for revenge, but she cannot retaliate no matter how much she wants to.

There is one thing I can be grateful for: Our counterparts are so focused on our little _surprise_ that no one has noticed our interaction.

No one but Nute Gunray.

I ignore him. My sole focus is on stopping Amidala from committing political suicide because for all her power in the Senate, attacking a guest during peace talks would end her career rather effectively.

I do not stop to consider why I am helping the single most dangerous and enduring obstacle to my plans, but it doesn't matter at the moment because I know I cannot allow her to fall apart so spectacularly in front of these assholes. _My_ Empress would never do so.

I squeeze her arm tightly again, knowing that she will bruise from my grip, but not caring as I continue to pin her with my eyes, mentally _commanding_ her to get her _fucking emotions under control_!

She stares at me for a moment longer, her eyes shining wetly before both of our actions dawn on her.

When she tries to snatch her arm away this time, I allow it, able to tell that she is back.

She returns to her senses none too soon for our peers are coming down from their shock and are shooting Amidala looks that lack the least bit of subtly. They are sickeningly eager to gauge her reaction.

She simply stares ahead, her back straight, her face unreadable.

I gaze hard at her for a second longer before looking toward the front at Valorum and Gunray. It is then that I see the smug smile that stretches across Gunray's face as he too looks at Amidala, obviously enjoying her stricken reaction.

The rage that I feel at his expression is unexpected and all-consuming. It's so quick, so unheralded that it feels as though I've been doused in flammable oil and then set ablaze. He's _enjoying_ her pain.

How _dare_ he.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to control my sudden fury I glance back at Amidala once again, disturbed by her continuing silence. She is still staring ahead, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

"I know that our… guest is a shock to some," Valorum begins hesitantly, eyes falling on Amidala's pale, emotionless face, "but this is an unprecedented opportunity to change the tide of the war destroying the Republic and it has to be taken. It is times such as these when we must put aside our personal feelings and do what is best for our constituents. Nute Gunray, the leader of the Trade Federation, has agreed to participate in these peace talks so that we can bring this conflict to an end. Please welcome him."

Everyone stands, including myself.

Everyone, that is, except for Amidala.

The assembly stands awkwardly for a moment, before sitting as it is clear that Amidala is not interested in honoring Gunray in any way.

As I retake my seat, I see that Amidala has finally stopped staring into nothingness. Her chocolate gaze is directly on Nute Gunray and the unmasked hatred in her eyes is as piercing and cutting as carefully sharpened iron.

The smugness in Gunray's visage fades at her undisguised loathing and a startling, unfamiliar surge of pride shoots through me at the steel in her, the strength. If what I saw in her eyes earlier is any indication of how she is feeling, then it is incredible that she is able to so effectively hold in her pain. Her time as a politician would have told her that such is more than necessary. Showing any weakness in this den of gundarks would be tantamount to political suicide and Amidala is anything but weak. She _is_ strong enough to weather this debacle.

Valorum indicates that Gunray take a seat next to him and they both sit down.

"Thank you for inviting me. I hope that together we may find a solution to this conflict that will benefit all," Gunray says solemnly, eyes running over the group before landing once again on Amidala. A wicked gleam enters his large eyes and even before he opens his mouth, I know that I won't like what comes out.

"After all," Gunray says with a kind smile, "negotiations are like a tight space. There might be a little work, a little fighting to get in, but eventually everything settles right in."

Everyone pauses, and mouths drop all over the room.

So shocked, so _surprised_ am I at this little shit's gall that it takes me a moment to comprehend what he just said and, more importantly, who he just said it _to_.

Gunray just made an allusion to rape to Amidala, my woman, in front of a group of men who know the agony she endured, who must have some inkling of the incredible control she's exerting to remain calm.

He _dared_ to mock her.

In front of them.

In front of _me_.

In front of Darth Vader.

I stare at Gunray for a moment, cognizant of the stares, the wide eyes, the dismay and the anger being shot in the Neimoidian's direction for his blatant disrespect toward one of his victims, toward a highly respected member of the Senate. But I do none of these things, feel none of these things.

I feel _nothing_ for suddenly, like the arrival of an eye of a storm, a deadly stillness descends over me.

Just like that, my decision is made.

I'm going to kill Nute Gunray.

#*#*#*#*#

I should feel victorious. The talks go just as I wanted but I feel no sense of satisfaction.

I once again established myself as a force to be reckoned with, impressing all present with not only my wisdom and manners, but with my wit, while carefully pushing the assembly toward continued aggressive action.

But Amidala…

After Gunray said those words to her she just sat there, refusing to speak. She did not vote when it was time, she did not add her voice again to the discussion at hand; she did not do anything.

She just _sat_ there.

And I _do not_ like it.

The meeting adjourns with no agreement in place, only the promise of more talks in the future. I find it ironic that enemies can sit down so civilly when the enemy has pretty much admitted to violating every sentient right in the book and while open fire is still being exchanged between both parties. But therein is politics. It's why I will eliminate this useless system when I am Emperor.

As soon as the last words are spoken, Amidala is out of the door, her exit being conspicuously watched by everyone in the room.

I resist the urge to follow her immediately, choosing instead to greet my peers and exchange pleasantries as is expected. It seems to go on forever; the simpering platitudes about how great a person I am, their desire to know my thoughts on the outcome of the talks, but more than that, their overwhelmingly nauseating gossip about Amidala and Gunray's scandalous behavior during the talks.

I tolerate politicians on a good day, despise them on my worst days, but as I listen to their mouths form pitying and tantalized words about Amidala, the nearly overpowering anger resurfaces and I struggle not to break down and kill them all. I mark every sentient who disparages her name, every person who finds morbid glee in her pain: Soon, they will meet the same fate as Gunray.

It's only a matter of time.

I make a point not to speak to Gunray, inconspicuously moving away from him as I greet the other senators. My control of my temper is as slight as a hair and if I have to look into the eyes of Amidala's tormenter, I cannot promise that my lightsaber won't rip through him the moment that smug smirk makes another appearance. Fortunately, my actions are mimicked as no one really seems too eager to approach the Neimoidian.

I leave as soon as I am able, immediately stretching out the Force to find her.

It leads me down the long halls of the Senate to a fairly private corridor I have passed many times without a glance. I enter the door at the end of it, following it with purpose; it leads to a refresher. As soon as I reach it, I touch the door and know that she's in there. Pressing my ear to the hard wood, all I can hear is running water.

The implication makes my nose flare and my teeth clench.

She is crying.

Shaking the door handle does not open it; it's locked.

I pause for a moment as I seriously consider slicing through the door with my lightsaber to get to her. It would be incredibly foolish, but I'm nearly to the point where I don't care, yet I still hesitate.

I don't know much about women, but if she has hidden herself away in an unknown 'fresher, it is likely because she needs some time for herself.

I will wait.

I cross my arms and lean against the wall next to the door, my mind slowly beginning to form a plan to exact retribution from all those who have wronged Amidala. Valorum has crossed the line and will pay for this gross error in judgement. But Gunray… he is the reason she's crying in a secluded 'fresher in a place she has always felt powerful. I will make him _suffer_… just as he has made Amidala suffer. He will feel her pain a _hundred fold_ before I am done with him.

I am still pondering the issue when she exits.

I blink as I take in her red eyes and the lines on her face; she _has_ been crying.

She doesn't react to the sight of me and her face is so exhausted, so vulnerable that something inside my chest clenches.

Mentally reinforcing the barriers controlling my anger, I say nothing, merely look at her a moment longer before taking her hand in mine. It's so small, so fragile, just like she seems in that moment, that I am careful as I handle her.

She allows me, offering no resistance.

As I gaze upon her sad visage, an overwhelming urge to wipe away her tears washes over me.

I do not _like_ this.

I do not like seeing her tears, witnessing her pain.

I do not like the way it is making me _feel_… like I must punish, no,_ decimate_ whoever had the nerve to hurt her so.

She is _mine_; mine to manipulate, mind to play with. _No one_ is allowed to hurt her, no one but me.

But now she just looks so _weary_… so tired in spirit, so unlike the strong, animated woman that walked into the Senate only hours earlier.

I cannot allow this. I _won't_.

I nod sharply, tugging her toward the exit. When we reach the main hallway, I look both ways before leading her toward a back hall so that we may move more freely. About ten minutes later, we are walking straight through my office to my private hangar, getting into my speeder and driving off.

Amidala says nothing as I pilot the speeder; she simply sits there as I drive recklessly through traffic. I slow down as we reach the hangar bay of 500 Republica, unceremoniously pulling her out of my speeder and toward her apartment.

I had first thought to go to my apartment, but I do not think that will comfort her. She needs a place that is familiar and safe.

I stop at her door, quickly imputing the code, noticing that she doesn't question the fact that I know it at all, another bad sign that she has been pushed far beyond her limit this day.

I gently nudge her inside, pulling her to the coach and pushing her down.

Pulling off her shoes, I throw them carelessly to the floor. I take a moment to examine her dress before tackling it as well. Finally, when I have stripped her to her undergarments, I pick her up and carry her to her bedroom, placing her on the bed.

Lifting a hand, I take the pins out of her hair one by one, allowing her luxurious brown locks to flow like waves down her back, just the way she likes it at night.

She blinks and her eyes come into focus for the first time since leaving the Senate, alighting on me. I kneel beside the bed, resting my elbows on it and frown as I return her gaze.

"I want…" she begins slowly, her voice a sad murmur, "I want to tell you a story."

"Okay," I reply gently, guardedly, eyes fixed intently on her face, "tell me."

She is silent for a long moment and then she begins.

"There once was a young girl who lived on a beautiful planet," she says, closing her eyes as the words began to flow, "she was a naive and innocent thing who grew in an isolated mountain village. As a young child, her parents taught her many things, virtues they found good and exceedingly worthy: She was taught self-sacrifice and to care for the socially weak. Later on, when the girl grew older, her family moved to a big city where she was enrolled in the best schools available to her. She participated in many programs, helping those who could not help themselves, who could not defend themselves, and who were displaced from their homes. Seeing the suffering of those around her made her heart ache and she wanted, more than anything, to help make their lives better. So, when the time came to choose a career, she chose to go into politics, certain that it was exactly what she wanted to do."

She falls silent again and I look at her, tense, a sick feeling beginning in the pit of my stomach. This story… I don't need the Force to tell me that I'm not going to like it. This is going to change things between us, more than this disastrous meeting today already has. I know it is. But I can't tell her to stop.

I am Darth Vader and I can take anything, so I will endure this.

Taking a deep breath, she continues, "Her career was on the fast track almost as soon as she entered the field. Her peers and mentors alike heralded her as a political genius and her parents were proud that she had decided to follow in their footsteps. Finally her career came to a peak when she was elected queen of her planet at the tender age of fourteen."

Her voice catches in her throat and she turns away from me, but I do not pull my gaze away from her, giving her my undivided attention.

"But then, the planet was invaded and the young girl, the girl-Queen, had no idea what to do. She made mistakes, costly ones that had steep consequences. She made a deal with the invaders, foolishly and naively trusting that they would keep their word. But they didn't and her people suffered. She was smuggled safely out of the palace, but her heart shattered when she saw her fallen people, the bodies of men, women and children in the streets; people who she promised to protect, people whom she failed."

She takes another deep, shuddering breath and I nearly imitate her, the sick feeling within me growing at an alarming rate. Her pain is so raw that I can almost see the bodies on the steps of the palace, see the blood running through Naboo's streets, bright and red on previously pristine and white roads.

"The young girl went before the ruling body of the highest governmental entity in the galaxy, hoping that they would aid her people, that they would stand by what they proclaimed they stood for: Peace, order and security. But the governing body… they did nothing to help her. They sent her away, their hearts cold and their eyes dead as they professed that there was nothing they could do, that they needed more _time." _Disgust is heavy in her voice as the recalls the way that the Senate betrayed her and her planet.

"Unwilling to leave her people to their fate, the young queen returned, determined to do whatever was necessary to free her people from the invaders. But when she arrived back to her home world, the infidels were waiting for her."

Her voice breaks again and I move closer to her. Impulsively, I reach for her hand and she immediately clings to it, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. When she speaks, I can hear the tears in her voice.

"They locked the queen up in a cage in a small room, under strict orders by their leader to leave her be. But her handmaidens… they took them… and tortured them… right in front of her. They raped them like animals, savagely taking them over and over. The handmaidens… they could not fight back, could not defend themselves; they were forced down and used in the most vile and cruel…"

She stops, unable to go on, her body shaking with silent, gut wrenching sobs. I sit stolidly next to her, still as stone.

"She wanted to die," she whispers in despair, eyes wet with with mourning, the chocolate orbs reflecting her deep, abiding grief. "She wanted to kill, to do anything but bear witness to such an atrocity. The young queen screamed herself hoarse pleading for her handmaidens, begging the infidels to stop, promising whatever they wanted as long as they spared them. But they did not listen, they continued to rape them until finally, _finally_ her friends were silent."

Her hands go over her mouth as she chokes and for a moment, I think she's going to be sick.

"Amidala," I begin, intent on making her stop: She cannot endure this. She is imploding.

"No," she spits out almost violently, pulling away from me, "you need to _understand_. You don't understand…"

She takes another shuddering breathe before whispering, "Her handmaidens were her _best friends_." She closes her eyes as she says the words, and the sincere love and earnest devotion in those words could have been heard by one deaf. It makes my chest ache strangely.

"They guided her when she didn't know what to do. They comforted her when she was sad, supported her when she was weak. When she cried, they cried too. She didn't do anything to deserve their love and their loyalty, but they gave it; continuously and without reservation. And to see them, women who were kind and gentle and least deserving of such an end, die in such a manner…?"

Her body shakes as tears begin to stream down her cheeks once more.

"It… it _broke her_," Amidala chokes out over silent sobs. "All the love that she had for life, all her hope in the goodness of the universe died that day. She sat in that cage, staring at the sightless, terrified eyes of her handmaidens and died. They left her in there with the violated bodies of her sisters, left her there with the scent of their inhumanity and cruelty still lingering in the air."

She pauses again, and from her gaze I know that she is far away. But I simply continue to look at her, my face emotionless. "I can still remember their faces… the faces of the ones who defiled those I loved. Nute Gunray was one of the first to begin raping them," she whispers, eyes unfocused, "he thought raping defenseless women was _fun_. He laughed while they cried and screamed."

"They tried not to though, you know," she says dully, her eyes refocusing on my face. "They tried not to scream. When they heard her begging and realized that she was watching, that she was hearing, they did not want to add to her pain, so they tried not to scream. They were being raped yet they were still thinking about _her_. Later on it was discovered that two of her handmaidens: Cordé and Sabé bit off their tongues trying not to scream. They died in agonizing pain, Anakin. In more ways than one."

"Later on, her jailers took the violated corpses away, but though the young queen was there in body, she was not there in mind. Time stood still; she had no idea how long she was there, how long she sat in the same spot, staring into nothingness. The invaders bought her food, but she would not eat. They grew aggressive and angry the more she refused, but she did not care." Amidala murmurs the last part, her eyes unfocusing again. "She _wanted_ them to kill her as they had killed her handmaidens; it was no less than she deserved for failing them. She _knew _it would come because there was no one in the universe who would help her, no one who would come to the aid of her people."

She falls silent and I simply continue to stare at her, absorbing everything that she is saying.

"But then, someone did," she speaks softly, reaching toward me and grasping my fingers tightly once more. "The girl was lying in her cage when she heard a commotion outside. At first she didn't respond, so catatonic was she. But when the sound of blaster shots rang through the air, she sat up, confused as to what was happening. Moments later a man entered. He was young and tall with brown hair and brown and cream-colored robes. In his hand he held a glowing blue lightsaber and he had come to save her. Out of everyone in the galaxy, governments and allies alike, there was only one body who came to her aid, only one who had moved on the behalf of her people: The Jedi," she whispers the name almost reverently and I feel an unwelcome chill go down my spine.

The Jedi? The _Jedi_ rescued Amidala.

I frown slightly, my mind slowly processing the thought.

The Jedi rescued Padmé.

"The Jedi had gone to the Republic and intervened on her planet's behalf, refusing to back down until they procured approval to assist in 'negotiating' efforts. The Jedi who rescued her was like an avenging angel. He swept through the room, killing every person within, stopping only when the last infidel was dead. When he got to her, he opened the cage and held out his arms. She entered them and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt safe. Later on, she learned that his name was Obi-Wan."

"The young girl clung to Obi-Wan through the rest of the ordeal; he was her rock, the reason she retained her sanity. Because of him she was able to face her people and successfully hide the agony of her ordeal behind her queen persona. With the Jedi's help she rallied her people and assisted in the war efforts, finally driving the invaders from her planet. But when it was all over, when the Jedi left and the young Obi-Wan was no longer able to be her anchor, when it was time to rebuild all that had been lost, there was nothing left of the queen to restore."

She turns to me, looking me in the eyes. "The girl was traumatized by what she had been through. The violent violation of her friends, the battles, the mass genocide of her people; it all destroyed a part of her that she knew she could never get back."

She gives me a sad smile, but my face is still blank, my body as stiff and straight as an arrow.

"For a long time, she was afraid of men, refusing to allow them to touch her or even to be in a room with her alone. She was terrified of the sex act, refusing to enter any relationships for fear of it. And her nightmares… they nearly drove her mad. They were so horrible, so debilitating that she'd wake up in the middle of the night, screaming and sobbing and puking, her dreams plagued by the death of her friends. During the day, she continued to be queen, hiding her turmoil from all those around her, but at night, at home, she broke down, sobbing in her room, crying for hours out of fear and helplessness… out of _rage_.

"Finally, though, something changed. One morning, the young queen looked into the mirror and hated the weak, pathetic girl looking back at her. She realized that she could not continue the way she was going and she vowed, in that moment, to never allow herself to be so weak again. By the strength of her will she reinvented herself. She shed the kindness, the love, the respect for all life. Those tenets had made her weak, had allowed invaders to destroy her planet. But not again. Never again would she allow her people to suffer as they had during her planet's occupation and never again would she be too weak to defend herself and to protect the ones she loved."

"When next she went before her people, before the governing body, she was a different person."

Amidala releases a small bitter breath.

"She unleashed the full force and fury of her vengeance upon those around her. She held nothing back, lambasting and destroying all those who stood in her way, all those who sought to take advantage of the weak, of the poor. She quickly gained a reputation for ruthlessness and viciousness, but she persisted, uncaring of what others said. When the young queen's term was finally up, she felt nothing, no sense of accomplishment and no desire to re-enter public service. She looked forward to becoming a civilian again, to fading into obscurity at her parent's Lake House in the hope that it would help her find peace.

"But then, the new, incoming queen asked the girl, now a woman, to become senator for the system. The woman… could not resist," she shakes her head, a slight, fleeting smile gracing her lips.

"The woman went to the Senate with the sole intentions of cleaning it of every filthy politician, of making it everything it should be. It was hard work… _lonely_ work. The woman didn't realize it at the time, but she was tired of being alone. Yet she wasn't willing to risk her heart or her body, so she remained that way, trusting only her family and no one else."

"But then, she met a man," she speaks quietly, giving me a ghost of a smile as she studies my face.

I shift slightly as I feel my heart began to pick up speed at the intensity of her perusal.

"He was tall and incredibly handsome. _Beautiful_. But it wasn't just his looks that drew her, it was his words, his humor, his charisma. There was just something about him that touched her and the more she got to know him, the more she liked him. He followed her and she allowed it, even though she told herself not to. He invited her to places and she went, even though she knew it wasn't a good idea. He touched her and she reveled at it, even though she had seen the horrors of what touch could lead to. He knocked on the door of her heart and she opened it, even though she knew that it was the most dangerous thing she could ever do, even though she knew he could break her heart."

When she looks at me then, her heart is in her eyes and I move closer to her, drawn to her like a moth to a flame; drawn to the warmth in her gaze and the tingles of somethingexceedingly pleasant exploding in my chest at her words.

I've seen that look before; in my vision where she is my Empress and the mother of my children.

Does this mean…?

I stop the thought in its tracks, tilting my head slightly, my eyes refusing to leave her face.

I do not know. I cannot hope, not if it isn't true.

I gaze at Amidala with burning intensity as she continues to speak.

"Finally, she admitted to herself how much she wanted him, how much she didn't want to be alone. But before she would allow herself to love him, she had to know if he was truly a good man. So, she investigated him, followed him and found out that he was not."

I stare at her sad visage impassively, my face hardening at her words, conscious of the warmth in my chest flaring to a burning pain.

I was right… she isn't.

But how could she be? I am Sith.

No one can love a Sith.

Amidala closes her eyes for a split second before turning her gaze back on me.

"But she didn't want to let him go, so she hid his identity from those looking for him, because she thought, she _hoped_ that there was more to him than pure evil. In her confusion and fear, she went to his lair and there…" her voice softens, "there, he made her his."

I grasp her hand tightly, remembering the day. It had been a glorious night; one of the most magnificent in my existence.

"Afterwards, the woman panicked. She had been through too much, seen too much. She needed space; she felt as though the man was consuming all of her and she refused to allow that to happen. So, she used trickery to escape him, to flee to the one place she felt safe. But upon getting to her sanctuary, she realized that the man had outsmarted her, had beat her there. It terrified her; he had never hurt her, but there was no guarantee that he would continue not to do so and not to hurt her family as well."

She shakes her head, her eyes hardening as she glares at me. She looks so much like her usual self that it nearly makes me smile.

"To her heartache, her fear was validated," she continues, her voice becoming somber again. "When she confronted him about his presence there, he… used his power to get her to submit, to physically abuse her."

"She was so _hurt_…" Amidala's voice is amazed as though even now she cannot believe how affected she was by my action. "She did not realize it, but despite everything, she had trusted him and he _hurt_ her, choked her, sought to make her helpless when she vowed that she would never allow herself to be treated like that, to _feel_ like that again. The man hurt more than her throat; he hurt her heart," she speaks the last part softly, her voice rough with lingering pain.

At her words, the sick feeling returns to my stomach with such ferocity that I feel nauseous. I had felt remorse for the first time in my life that day, but only now do I realize just how badly I fucked up.

After all that she had been through, how is it that we are here together now? How can she trust me after what I did to her? Even after she discovered who and what I am?

"But then, surprisingly, he apologized and promised never to hurt her that way again and not to harm her family. The woman was thrown. She didn't know what to think or how to react, but she accepted the apology for her family's sake. To her relief he was true to his word and he did not hurt her or her family while there and the rest of their time at her sanctuary was well spent. The woman actually had _fun_ for the first time in years. And that's when she knew for sure that there was good in him, that she could _be_ with him. And she was glad, _so_ _glad_."

She smiles at me and it is so relieved, so full of promises of peace and happiness that I return it, my mouth stretching slowly into a genuine smile, one corner of my mouth _actually_ turning up, more pleased than I care to admit to see light dawning in her eyes.

Then, what she said fully sinks in.

She wants to be with me.

Amidala _wants_ _me_.

I stare at her, my mouth slightly parted in awe as I gaze upon her. Force, but she is so beautiful to me in this moment that my breath catches. Her face is haggard and worn, her hair scraggly and unkempt around her face; her eyes are lined and her face is red, but she is _so_ _beautiful_. And the way she is looking at me…

In that moment, if she had asked me to go and destroy the Senate, buy her a planet, or even kiss a fucking puppy I would.

I would do anything for her.

I _will_ do anything for her.

I will do anything to keep that look on her face, to keep her by my side.

I will never allow her to leave me; I will never allow us to be parted.

Amidala will be mine _forever_.

Unaware that she has sealed her fate for all time, she reaches up to me and strokes my face.

"I know that you didn't want to know, that you might not care, but I… I still wanted to tell you. I wanted you to understand me… to know how I feel," she whispers moving to me; wrapping her arms around my shoulders and burying her face in my neck. "I just wanted you to know me."

I say nothing, simply wrap my arms around her and hold her close.

My chest feel full, like it's going to burst.

Amidala wants me, she wants to be with me.

She is mine.

I stroke her hair, marveling at its softness, pondering all the events that have led us to this moment. It's the Force. It has to be. Not only does it want me to rule, but it wants me to be with this woman.

I quietly accept its gift with sincere gratitude.

Closing my eyes, I allow myself to enjoy her touch.

Force, but Amidala has completely turned my world on its head. Strangely enough, I don't mind at all.

I open my eyes when she relaxes against me completely only to find that she has slipped into an exhausted sleep.

I hold her for a little while longer before gently moving her to the bed and pulling the covers over her body.

Leaning over, I smell her hair and then press a tender kiss to her cheek.

"Sleep, my Empress," I murmur softly, gently nuzzling her there, "I will return soon."

With that, I rise to my feet and leave.

#*#*#*#*#

As I move toward my apartment, I force the warmth and contentment that Amidala elicited in me to a place deep within and allow all the anger that has built up since the beginning of the Peace Talks to breathe.

And breathe it does.

I continue to stride purposefully, dangerously, through the halls of 500 Republica, a haze of dark energy crackling around me. I don't care who is around or who sees me. There's only one thing I care about at the moment.

_Nute Gunray. _

I crack my neck as I feel my eyes turn yellow; all the emotions that I suppressed while listening to Amidala's tale explode within me. Hatred, anger and revulsion rip through me like a blaster shot ripping through flesh. Never, _ever_ in my life have I felt so _sickened_, felt such contempt and enmity for another being. _Never_ has the Dark Side raged to violently, never has it hungered for the destruction of anyone so lustily.

Not even the Jedi.

My quarters are dark when I arrive, the air, the cool and stale waft that comes from a long period of disuse.

But I do not notice it.

Without even bothering to take off my cloak or make myself comfortable, I move to the veranda and immediately sink into the Dark Side, seeking guidance from the Force.

It immediately heeds my command, opening up to me, enveloping me. Force, I have never felt so feral, so dangerous, so _focused_.

The list of Gunray's transgressions begin to appear before my eyes like a list on a holopad.

Nute Gunray allowed insubordination toward me within the ranks of the Trade Federation Directorate and delayed the plans for my battle station with the Genosians.

Nute Gunray sought to negotiate a peace treaty with the Republic without my permission, rebelling against Darth Vader's authority.

And his greatest trespass, the one that he will pay for with his life: He insulted Amidala, tortured and killed those precious to her, sought to damage her in the most debilitating way and humiliated her in front of her peers.

Dark energy continues to crackle around me as I examine Nute Gunray's infractions, and through the Force, I can feel a sense of alarm from the Jedi. They can feel the sudden surge in the Dark Side of the Force. They know that I am moving, but I do not care, they are not my problem at the moment.

Nute Gunray is.

I have never concerned myself with the personalities and morality of those who work for me. I only care about results, of competency and seeing my plans succeed due to their efficiency. I had read before about Gunray's perfidy, how it was a foregone conclusions that he had committed those horrors on Naboo and that it was only by the efforts of Count Dooku that he wasn't rotting in a Republic cell right now. It had never mattered to me before.

It does now.

The mere fact that Nute Gunray still breathes offends to me to my _core_.

Even his insubordination would not have elicited such a response from me. I would have simply killed him quickly and moved on because it's not abnormal for such actions of insurrection to occur. This is not the first time that the machinations of the Sith have been placed in jeopardy because of the actions of different individuals and factions involved in our plans.

There is a reason it has taken so much time and so many Sith Lords for this plan to come into fruition. It's not just the culture of betrayal that has prompted such a long planning and implementation process; it's the managing of the millions of beings we employ to further our ends. Controlling so many sentients on such an enormous scale is infinitely difficult and though Sidious always made it look easy, it is anything but. The majority of his time was spent keeping a close eye on the Senate, his minions and his living investments. Namely me.

Darth Sidious, Darth Plagueis and the Sith Lords before them left many notes on the various 'hiccups' in their plan and compared to what I've read in the archives, this situation with the Trade Federation and Nute Gunray is not the largest bump that has ever occurred in the grand scheme of things. But it is a bump nonetheless.

The Trade Federation's perfidy will be dealt with. But Nute Gunray? He _will_ pay for what he has done and before I am finished with him, he will _beg_ for death. And only after I have wrenched every cry of agony from him, every scream, will I grant it. He will feel her pain one thousand fold before I allow him to die. Even his death, his afterlife, will be hell. I will make _sure_ of it.

I open my eyes, conscious but uncaring that the energy that continues to crackle around me is leaving marks on the walls and floor.

The truth is I want Gunray dead _now_, but the mess he has made coming to these talks and undermining me with the Trade Federation cannot be ignored. He will fix everything that he has broken and _then_ I will destroy him.

Immediately and without mercy.

Normally, I'd send Maul to do this sort of thing, to scare my underlings into submission or to kill them, but he is gone to Geonosis. Even if he hadn't I wouldn't have required his services in this matter because this?

I will see to this _myself_.

Because at no time that I've plotted someone's demise has my desire to kill been like this.

This is not about being a Sith, or destroying the Jedi.

This is not about becoming Emperor.

This is about protecting someone precious to me.

This is about avenging someone whom I cherish, whose happiness is paramount.

This is for Padmé.

**Chapter 28: Rupture****: **The next step.

A/N: Okay, see? It didn't take me long to update. Only FOREVER. So sorry guys. It's the same old reason: RL is like Mike Tyson, just doling out blow after blow. But I do thank you guys for your encouragement and your reviews. Also, a special note to "favorite/alerters" please don't just favorite and alert. Please review. It only takes a moment. And remember: I know who you are, lol. Thank you to all those who reviewed last chapter. It truly means the world:

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WrittinInStone


	28. Rupture

**Chapter 28: Rupture**

**_P_**_admé _**_A_**_midala_

As soon as I wake I know that I'm alone.

For a moment I lie there disoriented. Where am I…?

Then suddenly, it all comes flooding back: The peace talks, Interim Vice President Valorum's special guest … _Nute Gunray_.

I freeze, a nearly dizzying paralysis gripping my body as I brace myself, waiting in quiet dread for the rage, helplessness and hopelessness that have plagued me for so long to utterly engulf me as they did last night.

The memory of yesterday's retelling is a haze of pain. I remember tears falling down my face, the agony of incomprehensible grief and the torment of endless mourning. I have never told anyone exactly what happened that day, not _anyone_. Even my account during Nute Gunray's trial a few years ago was only specific enough to gain a conviction—an effort which failed. It was just too painful to say more, too damaging to tell the universe what I went through.

Now, I wonder if being more honest would have put Nute Gunray behind bars.

I shake my head slightly, forcibly dismissing the notion. Speculating on what could have happened will drive me mad and thinking that I could have done any more than I did to have justice done will leave me even more tormented than I am now.

I did the very best that I could to see Nute Gunray punished for the things he had done to my planet, my people, and the fact that the system failed me yet against was not my fault. I cannot think about what could have been, what_ should_ have been and allow yet another injustice to weigh on my spirit. I can't take on anymore millstones, anymore pain.

The thought of the emotional baggage that I already carry brings back a sense of dreaded resignation. I've dealt with agonized relapses before and survived and I'll do it again. I won't let this destroy me.

Steeling myself, I continue to fortify my mental shields as I prepare my mind to deal with a repeat of yesterday's poignant episode. I lie there tensely for a full minute before it strikes me, the force of the epiphany nearly jarring me: It's not there.

Rolling over to my side, I blink slowly, touching my chest, feeling the tell-tale beat of my heart, but no agony, no sharp, piercing pain.

Where's the anger, the loathing, the self-recrimination? I don't feel it, only a sense of determination, a sense of purpose; a sense of _peace_, as though the burdens of the past have been alleviated if only slightly.

Sitting up, I wrap my arms around myself, unable to help the amazement that courses through me.

I don't feel weighed down anymore. My mother always insisted that I needed to talk my problems out, to tell someone what happened to me and I've _wanted_ to do it before. I didn't hold in my tale to be stubborn, but I just… _couldn't_. There was no one to tell. My family had an inkling of what had occurred that day, but I didn't want to taint them with the truth; I didn't want their faces to overshadow with horror, rage and pity. I wanted them to remain innocent of the true horrors that the Trade Federation had visited upon Naboo, to remain oblivious to what I had gone through. I did not want them to carry my pain, to house grief and vengeance that could not be assuaged.

No, I was determined that the burden of my ordeal would be mine alone to bear.

But yesterday, it seemed as though it was _time_; time to share my story, time to allot some of my pain to someone else, time to open up to another just as my mother said. It never occurred to me that Anakin would not be strong enough. I knew he could handle my darkness, that he could handle it better than anyone else.

Yet how well did he _really_ take it? Better than I did, it seems. He was so still as I told him, so quiet that it was as though my words had no effect on him at all. Was that an illusion? A facade of strength for my sake?

More speculation.

Taking a deep breath, I release it, allowing my body to relax further into the sheets, glorying in the feeling of tranquility that has descended over me. I feel so light that I don't want to move. My dark hair is curled around my shoulders like strands of silk and the covers that Anakin pulled over me are cozy and comfortable. The light of Coruscant's sun is streaming through the window, caressing my skin, warming my face and my heart.

Maybe Anakin's stoicism was exactly what I needed. He gave no pity and showed no anger; he allowed me to paint his canvas of detachment with the colors of my experience.

Now I feel _free_. The pain is still there, the sense of rage still simmers just below the surface of my skin, but it's not overwhelming anymore. It's doesn't feel as though it's going to consume me, take my life.

I hadn't realized that the weight of my experience was so heavy, I didn't realize that the yoke was so hard to bear. Now that I've released it, now that I feel so _liberated_, I feel beholden to the one who I turned my pain over to.

I feel indebted to Anakin Skywalker.

In my mind, I know that he didn't actually do anything special. All he did was sit and listen. So why do I still feel as though I _owe_ him?

I release another deep sigh, turning my head into my soft, white pillows.

I don't want to feel this uncomfortable sense of gratitude toward him, but I _do_. He took care of me when I needed it, gave me support in the Senate when I was falling apart; quite literally stopping me from committing political suicide.

I pause abruptly as the thought strikes me deeply, causing me to sit up as I remember what he did for me in the Senate. How could I have possibly forgotten how he had prevented me from assaulting Gunray? He _did_ save me. The events at the Peace Talks are hazy, but I remember seeing red as soon as Nute Gunray walked through those conference doors. I remember his smug face and suddenly knowing deep inside of me that I was going to do whatever I had to do to make him _pay_; not later, but right then, right there. But Anakin stopped that. He literally saved my career, literally prevented me from destroying all that I had worked so hard for.

Dear Force, I _do_ owe him.

Torn by a multitude of confusing emotions, I bury my face in my hands, my eyes wide with the realization.

Why would he do that? Why would he save me? We both want the same thing; to be Supreme Chancellor. Why would he protect me if I'm the biggest obstacle to his goals?

Why?

Does he… does he _care for me_?

The thought sends such a sudden and nearly overwhelming burst of warmth and giddiness through me that I _actually_ feel myself grow faint for a moment.

Did he save me because he genuinely cares? That _must_ be it. What other reason could it possibly be? Why would he protect his biggest rival unless his feelings were involved?

I deflate as another thought occurs to me.

What if he did it so I would feel beholden to him? He bore my burdens, saved me, and that means more to me that I can say. What if that's what he wanted all along? I would be a bigger asset as a powerful senator in his pocket than a neutralized, powerless former opponent. But I can't believe that that's true. He knows how strong willed I am, he knows I can't be controlled.

But what if that _is_ what he wanted?

It reminds me of something my mother once told me. She said that women, for all the technological advancement in the galaxy, haven't changed since the dawn of our existence. Women, at our core, at our most primal, want security, provision and love. If a man wants a woman, even one who wouldn't usually give him the time of day, all he has to do is be there when she's in need. The type of need doesn't matter: It could be food, shelter, or pure emotional support, but providing a woman with her needs will make even the strongest, snootiest, most angry woman fall in love with him.

If that's what Anakin intended to do for me, then he's done a fine job because that's how I feel right now. I don't love him yet, I _hope_ I don't love him yet. But the desire to be with him, the need to see him, has exploded with what he has done for me. I just… want to _be_ with him. I want to see him. _Now_.

Where _is_ he?

I push the covers back, swing my legs over the side and sit there, contemplating the question. If Anakin is true to form, he'll be back. That's good, because I want to do something for him to make him understand how much his actions mean to me.

I won't discount my concerns, valid as they are. I _will_ be on guard, consciously keeping an eye out for any evidence of an ulterior motive for helping me, but until I see any such substantiation, I'm going to take his actions at face value.

He saved me and I mean to show him how much I lov— how grateful I am to him for that.

Frowning, I tap my chin as I continue to ponder it. What can I do…?

A smile whips across my features as the idea hits me like a custom BARC speeder hitting an old transport during Coruscant's rush hour.

I know exactly what to do for him and he's going to _love_ it.

With renewed vigor I bound out of my bed. Entering my refresher, I look with regret at my water shower before moving past it to the sonic shower. I usually like to take a shower with water as it's reminiscent of my habits in Naboo, but I want everything to be set up by the time Anakin returns and sonic showers are simply quicker.

Returning to my room, I move to my closet, smiling as I dig deep and pull out the costume that I had buried there. It had actually been on sale in the marketplace about a year back. I don't know how the vendor came about it and I didn't ask, but as soon as I saw it, I wanted it. To this day, I have no reason why I was so determined to buy something like this, the very presence of which would seem more than a little strange and maybe even suspicious to some, but I did it anyway. I had thought to simply keep it as a memento since I certainly had no intention of wearing it.

That's about to change.

I'm pretty sure with what I'm planning, this outfit is going to get the mission of its life.

I smile as I begin to carefully pull the surprisingly complicated garb apart.

On Naboo, I made Anakin a promise, now I'm going to keep it. And I think I'm going to quite enjoy keeping my word.

#*#*#*#*#

I am in the kitchen, crouching behind the counter when he returns.

My heart picks up a rapid cadence as he arrives, his tall, slim silhouette filling the doorway. Force, but he is so beautiful with his sinful eyes, nimble hands and perfect form. His countenance has always been pleasing to me, but experiencing him; feeling his rough, sure hands on my skin, feeling him move inside me from our first time together only increased the attraction. Now, after what he has done for me in the Senate, it is worse. Much, _much_ worse.

Dear nebula, Anakin Skywalker is damn near _irresistible_.

Force, but my attraction to him scares me shitless. Is there anything about him that does not please me? This type of infatuation, these types of emotions are dangerous when dealing with a creature as unpredictable and dangerous as Anakin Skywalker. It emphasizes the need for me to rely on my mind to deal with him, not my emotions. My emotions will lead me astray, but my mind … that will keep me on the correct path.

Fortunately, for now, I can allow my emotions free range. They're going to get me what I want right now: Anakin's body hammering fiercely and viciously into mine and more importantly; his arms wrapped tightly and securely around me.

Anakin frowns and looks around for a moment before entering the room purposefully, long strides quickly eating up the distance between the door and my position.

He is almost upon me when he pauses abruptly, his gaze narrowing directly on where I am.

I, of course, had counted on him knowing where I am, so it doesn't startle me. But it does send my adrenaline flowing like lava exploding from an active volcano and makes my heart pump like an energy efficient piston on a custom speeder.

Filled with both glee and nervous anticipation, I let out a fierce shriek and jump from behind the counter, immediately launching myself at him. I know that it's pretty much a given that the Jedi don't announce their presence by releasing a war cry before descending on their opponent, but I'm doing it anyway simply because I've always wanted to.

Blame it on my film obsession.

His eyes widen slightly as I move toward him with lightning quickness, smartly adorned in my Jedi outfit, mock lightsaber at the ready.

It only takes a second for him to take in and understand what is happening. He stares at me in disbelief and then, slowly, like the sun peeking through the heavens on a cloudy day on Naboo, he smiles.

It is so bright, so genuine, so _pure_, so _fucking beautiful_ as it spreads slowly across his lips that my heart _stops_.

My breath catches in my throat.

Dear Force.

I am so in love with him.

So struck am I by him, by my revelation, that I simply pause and stare at him in wonder.

I am just … in love with him.

So in love with him.

I know I look silly standing in my Jedi costume with fake lightsaber raised, staring at him with a gaping mouth and slack expression but I can't help it.

I am in love with Anakin Skywalker.

It doesn't surprise me, it doesn't even alarm me although I know it will come later. Right now, in this moment, I bask in the warmth of first love. It is glorious, and awe inspiring and _life changing_ and oh … I am in love with a Sith Lord.

I am in love with Anakin Skywalker.

But my hesitation costs me.

Anakin, with eyes screaming desire, doesn't waste time, for which I am _exceedingly_ grateful. I need him inside me _now_. I need to be one with the man I love. One moment I am clothed and the next, my tunic has been ripped off my body with invisible hands.

Startled and before I can even muster proper fake outrage, he has me pressed hard against the wall, one hand at my throat while the other delves with confidence into my pants, seeking my lower lips as though they belong to him.

A part of me is a little exasperated that my brilliant plan to role-play is being abandoned so quickly, but I can't resent it. I need this, I need _him_.

I gasp as the hand on my throat creep to my mouth, two of his fingers slipping inside. I immediately close my mouth around the digits, sucking on them gently, fervently. Then, our pants are down and he is sliding into me like I was made for him and it's slick and hot and oh so _large_ that it feels as though he's stuffing himself inside of me. My eyes roll in the back of my head as he begins to batter viciously into me, my breasts smashing into the wall with each of his thrusts, his breathing heavy in my ear, his arms holding me up as my legs give way. I am surrounded by him, invaded by him, _possessed_ by him.

Anakin Skywalker is trying to own me.

As he reshapes my body to fit his own, as he rips silent screams of nearly unbearable pleasure from me, all thoughts of any type of pain disappears and time loses its meaning.

All that matter is Anakin Skywalker; his hands on me, his cock inside of me, his arms enveloping my world.

#*#*#*#*#

"Ani?" I begin softly from my place curled underneath his chin.

"You know I don't like that name, Padmé," he answers with mild surliness, his breath warm against my scalp, his voice muffled against my chocolate hair.

I ignore him and spit out my question before I lose my nerve.

"Ani," I repeat gently, voice strong with false confidence, "how did you become a Sith? And why do you seem… _stable_?"

He stiffens so completely that for a second, I fear that his heart stops beating. Slowly, he pulls away from me, his face inscrutable as he stares down at me.

We have just finished having sex and the scent of our lovemaking still permeates the air. I am lying on the bed with his arms wrapped around me, using his chest as a cushion; a very warm, very _firm _cushion. Our clothes litter the floor and I'm pretty sure that my Jedi costume is beyond repair. He's so calm and seemly content that I figured now would be a good time to ask the questions that have been plaguing my thoughts since the Jedi revealed the existence of the Sith.

"Why, by the Force's power, would you ask me about _that_?," he asks dangerously, quietly, his eyes locked on mine. "And what do you mean 'I seem stable'?"

I steel myself as I notice the hardness of his gaze, but I forge ahead. I begin this, and I will finish it.

"I asked you because I want to know," I respond stubbornly, glaring at him, refusing to allow him to intimidate me. "And when I say 'stable', I mean that you're not, well, _evil_. The Jedi told me that when a Force user turns to the Dark Side they are lost to it. They said that everything that made them good is gone and that they become monsters. It destroys the people they used to be and they become utterly different. It's why they take different names."

He is silent, his blue eyes piercing through me.

"Anakin?" I venture again, my voice steady, a slight frown marring my features, more than a little concerned with his silence.

I have seen glimpses of the darkness within Anakin and only an idiot would ignore the fact that being a Sith is, if not at the heart of that, a very large part of it. There are few things that can truly scare me anymore, but I admit, after my encounter with Darth Vader, the part of him that is Sith frightens me. I've seen the manifestation of his Force powers twice and one those times he was preventing my intake of breath. Nevertheless… I _still_ want to meet his darkness, this Darth Vader. It may be insane and dangerous, but I still want to see it, to face it head on… just like he did mine.

Even if I can't banish it completely, maybe I can do for him what he's done for me: Maybe I can soothe whatever is feeding the Dark Side inside of him; perhaps I can make his burden a little lighter.

He stares at me for a long moment and I hold his gaze, willing myself not to look away.

"It's a long, complicated story," he says finally, flatly, gently moving from under me and off the bed. I remain where I am.

"We have time," I reply gently, fluffing the pillow behind me and burying in it, making myself comfortable before sending him a pointed look.

He shakes his head, his voice like ice, "Actually we don't."

I stare at him uncomprehendingly.

"What? Why?" I ask with unintended sharpness. He's not trying to get out of answering my questions, is he? I hope he realizes that that's not going to happen. What doesn't he want to tell me? I know that talking about him being a Sith must be a sensitive topic for him, but we_ have_ to talk about it sometime. It's the proverbial gundark in the room.

"Because there's someone at your door," he answers emotionlessly, interrupting my internal rant as he gathers his clothes.

"My door?" I repeat with a frown, eyebrows pulled together.

"Yes," he replies shortly, his intense blue eyes lingering on me before moving back to his clothes, "there's someone at your door. Feels like a Jedi."

I pause for a moment as I finally notice the increased tension in him, a rigidity that has nothing to do with my question. His body is stiff and poised, his face stoic. An unholy trickle of cold slivers down my spine when I notice the steel in his features. I've seen this before in soldiers preparing themselves for battle. They suppress all emotions, anything that would hinder their ability to fight.

He's preparing for a confrontation.

Not in my house he's not.

"Don't get excited," I say with forced calm, moving out of the bed as well. "No one knows you're here. It's probably just Obi-Wan here to see me. Besides, you're insane if you think you're going to get into it with a Jedi here."

"Do you always have Jedi randomly showing up at your place?" he asks coldly, continuing as though I said nothing.

"I have _friends_ show up at my home. You know, like regular people do," I respond, slightly annoyed. "That Obi-Wan happens to be a Jedi is a non factor."

"A non factor, huh? How is your non factor going to react to my presence here?" Anakin continues his voice chilly, turning to me now fully dressed. "I don't think he's going to be too pleased considering he's in love with you."

I frown at Anakin, uneasy with his words. I've suspected for a while that Obi-Wan's feelings for me might be deeper than a meaningful friendship, but I've never entertained the thought of a relationship with him simply because he's a Jedi. It goes against what they believe in and I would never want to put him in such a difficult position; I would never want him to choose between me and the Order. I also didn't fancy being in a relationship that I would have to hide and couldn't flaunt freely. The fact that all of these things have happened anyway with Anakin is an irony that is not lost on me.

"He's not going to react," I return shortly, as I finish pulling on my clothes, "because he's not going to know you're here. Just stay in here until I can get him to leave."

He stills and later on, I would swear that the temperature of the room lowered by several degrees. His glare is so vicious that his lips trembles and for a moment, I feel it on my skin, sharp and piercing. "So, you want me to hide to preserve the feelings of your precious Jedi?"

"Don't be obtuse," I snap, irritated by his sudden stubbornness, his roiling emotions finally starting to affect me. "We both know that Jedi and Sith don't mix. It's best for everyone, _you included_, if he doesn't know you're here."

I don't remind him that Obi-Wan and the Jedi already suspect him, but by the look on his face, I don't have to.

Pursing my lips, I give him my full attention, gentling my voice as I realize how much my question and Obi-Wan's arrival here have spooked him. I don't want to put him on guard, I don't want to scare him. I just want him to _trust_ me.

"What's wrong, Anakin?" I ask softly, moving to him, rubbing his arm soothingly.

"What the kriffing hell do you think is wrong, Amidala?" he answers sharply, coldly, jerking his arm away from me, his gaze chillingly blank.

I draw away from him with wide eyes, startled. He's never withdrawn from my touch before. _Ever_. And he called me Amidala. I'm too late then: he's on guard. He's closed himself to me. Does he think this is a trap? Does he think I'm capable of doing something like that after what he's done for me?

That's more distressing and disappointing than it probably should be at this point. It's unfortunate that this knowledge doesn't stop a sudden sharp pain from coursing through me, piercing my heart.

"This is not a trap, Anakin," I tell him quietly as I move to leave, the alert announcing Obi-Wan's arrival playing over the com. "I just wanted you to open up to me. I thought that after everything that has happened, after I opened up to you, you would be able to be honest with me. I thought that you'd know that I wouldn't run if you told me the truth about yourself. I just… want to know you. I want_ you _to want _me_ to know you."

I pause, waiting for _something _from him, any indication that he wants the same thing.

He says nothing, simply stares at me, his face showing nary a hint of his thoughts.

I gaze at him sadly for a moment before turning to leave, closing the door quietly behind me.

I'm expecting too much from him, I know I am. Even as far as we've come, we still have a long way to go. His walls are so strong, so enduring. How do I break them down? The knowledge that I'm head over heels for him only makes my desire to get him to trust me even worse. I have to get through to him somehow.

I have to.

I push the thought away as I open the door, pasting a smile on my face to greet my best friend. I hope the performance I'm about to put on will be up to par. My shields, my endurance, has been tested these past two days to the breaking point. Now, yet another impossible situation has presented itself. Obi-Wan and Anakin are both in my house. At the same time.

How has this become my life?

The door slides open revealing Obi-Wan. My mouth barely has time to move before he surges inside, wrapping his arms tightly around me.

My eyes widen in shock at his embrace. What … ?

"Obi-Wan?" I begin in slight alarm, pulling back a little after a long, faltering moment of confusion.

"I heard about what happened at the Peace Talks," he mumbles against my hair. "Anger… is not the Jedi way. But I…" he voice trails off and I can hear the barely controlled rage in his voice. It strikes me to my heart. I've never seen Obi-Wan angry. _Ever_. Even after witnessing the horrors on Naboo, during my rescue, I never saw him like this. The implications, what his anger means, shakes me to my core.

"Obi-Wan," I say softly, earnestly, disquieted by his distress. "It's not your fault."

He shakes his head. "Valorum never should have invited Gunray there knowing that you would be present. His conduct is inexcusable. And I wasn't there to…" His arms tighten around and when I smile, this time it is genuine.

Of course he would have heard what happened and rushed here. Of course he would have. That's what best friends do.

"The Jedi will be at the next talks, I promise you. The fact that we weren't there before is a egregious oversight that is being corrected as we speak. We have been… preoccupied lately, but that does not excuse the lack of foresight in having at least one representative from the Jedi present. After what you did for us in aiding with the location of the Sith, I should be able to convince the Jedi council to allow my attendance."

At the mention of the Sith, I freeze against Obi-Wan's shoulder, nausea filling me like a Corellian consuming a bottle of liquor. What is wrong with me? How could I have forgotten for even a _second_ that Anakin is only a room away? I hope to the Force that he doesn't see Obi-Wan embracing me because he won't like it. Not at all.

No sooner do I have the thought than Obi-Wan is pulling away from me abruptly, his head shooting up, his gaze flying in the direction of my bedroom.

Ice fills my veins and I give him a tight smile, desperately hoping that he is so convinced of my distress and that it's related to the talks that he dismisses the fact that it's clearly about to break. "What's wrong, Obi-Wan?"

His gaze remains on my bedroom, "I thought I felt something."

"Here?" I ask, forcing incredulity and doubt into my voice, "I just came from my room. There's no one there." I bit back the bile that rises within me at deceiving him. I really, really hate lying to him. It's not right. It's _wrong_ and I hope that one day, he can forgive me.

He gaze lingers there. "I was probably just imagining things then."

I make a noncommittal sound under my voice and pull him to the couch, conscious of maintaining our usual rapport and not noticeably rushing him out. That would cast considerable suspicion on me and make him stay longer to figure out why I was hurrying him away. But the need to get him to leave before Anakin explodes through the door, and all without provoking Obi-Wan's considerable intuition, is wrecking havoc on my composure.

"How are you really, Padmé?" he asks gently as we sit down on the long, white furniture in my living room, the plush persian carpet sinking under our feet.

"It was pretty rough for a little while afterward," I admit, lacing my fingers together. "And it still sort of is. I kind of…" I trail off, unwilling to say the words, to tell him I want to be alone. Obi-Wan has been so good to me. Somewhere along the way, I'd forgotten that in my fury at what he had done to me in the name of the Jedi. I was just so _angry_.

Obi-Wan had been my one true friend, my one confidant, the one who was nearly family to me, the only one who truly understood what I went through that day. He was my rock, more important to me than anyone save my own flesh and blood, and though I had understood even then why he had done it, the realization that he had put the Jedi before me hurt more than I could handle at the time. So, I struck out, loosening our tight bonds and punishing him for injuring me so deeply. But no more. What he did is little in comparison to what I'm doing to him now.

He doesn't deserve this.

The knowledge chokes me and tears fill my eyes as I look at him. How will I ever make him understand why I am deceiving him? How will I make him understand how much Anakin means to me? How very much I love the man? How can I ever expect Obi-Wan to forgive me my lies, my deceit?

How do I keep my best friend?

I open my mouth in an effort to repeat my request, but I can't say the words, my heart crushing under the weight of what I'm doing to him. I look away; it's less than nothing, but at least I'll be able to say I didn't look him in the eye and lie to him.

"I just want…" I try again only for my voice to die. Why can't I get the words out?

Because it'd be one more lie. Because if Anakin weren't here, I would have very much desired Obi-Wan's company.

"…want to be alone." he finishes after a moment, compassion heavy in his voice, in his brown eyes. I smile sadly and shake my head, but keep my eyes down, unable to meet his. Nodding over the lump in my throat, I surge ahead, "Yes," I whisper in sorrow. "I know you came all this way to see me and I feel horrible…"

"Don't," he interrupts me, "never be sorry for how you feel. You, of all people, have a right to it. I just wanted to make sure you were well. Besides, if you need me, you know my com number. I'll come at anytime, Padmé. Anytime."

I nod again, unable to speak. He really is too good for me. Much too good.

"There is one more thing before I go," he says, with a small, solemn smile, "Valorum has commissioned a Peace Ball in about a week to celebrate the newest delegates from the Trade Federation arriving soon for the next phase of Peace Talks. Apparently, he believes if all the delegates can mingle socially, then an incident like yesterday won't happen again."

"What? You _can't_ be serious!" I spit out icily, face twitching in sudden rage at Valorum's gall. "Why the knifing hell haven't we replaced this fucker with an _actual _Supreme Chancellor? Why the fuck is he still in power?"

"A fine and robustly stated question, Padmé," he says with a smile, amused by my profanity. "I have a feeling that after his poor judgement with the Peace Talks and now with this ball, his leadership will not be upon us for much longer."

He can say that again. I will be setting his impeachment into motion _myself_ as soon as possible. That is, if someone else hasn't beat me to it. I'm not the only politician displeased with Valorum's directorship.

"A fucking Peace Ball," I murmur, seething. "And I suppose Gunray will be there?"

"It is almost a guarantee," he says sympathetically, and I'm glad he is not handling me with kid gloves. That's the last thing I want right now.

We fall into silence.

I lean back into the chair, tapping my chin as I digest this latest news.

I _really_ have to get my act together. I've had my allotted breakdown due to Gunray's unexpected presence, and now I have to be strong. Padmé is not going to be present at the Ball at all, Senator Amidala, the former Queen of Naboo will. Good thing I'll have Anakin there with me. He'll be my buffer against the political bullshit and help keep me strong. I can't say that I'm unhappy over the ability to finally stake a claim over him publicly. I want everyone to know that he's mine. I want those persistent hussies—who I know still seek him for his considerable … _charms_—to leave him the hell alone.

But revealing our relationship to the world would mean revealing my connection to Anakin with Obi-Wan. Will Obi-Wan be suspicious? Will he think I kept Anakin off of the potential Sith list because of it? How do I ease Obi-Wan into it without hurting our relationship more than it will be?

I sigh and rub my face, suddenly feeling incredibly exhausted. I'll have to ponder this more. Anakin and I should be able to think of a good way for me to break this all to Obi-Wan before we publicly announce our relationship at the Peace Ball—

"So, what time do you want me to pick you up?" Obi-Wan asks shyly, his gentle voice breaking into my thoughts.

I stare at him blankly.

"Time?" I ask unintelligently, trying to focus on his words amongst the jumble of my thoughts.

"Yes, what time do you want me to pick you up for the Ball?" he repeats again, eyebrows slightly furrowed, a hint of concern in his voice.

Pick me up? Obi-Wan? I stare at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before it finally clicks. He expects me to go with him! But of _course_ he does. When he's planet side I _always_ go with him. Everyone knows that.

Everyone, that is, except Anakin; the same Anakin who's going to blow his shit if I agree to go with Obi-Wan. But I don't have much choice and I hope Anakin understands that. I can't deny Obi-Wan. Not right now. I have to find some way to ease Obi-Wan into the knowledge that I'm with Anakin, a person he suspects to be Sith. But now is not the time. He looks so hopeful and I've done so much to him already. I can't let this be another item in a long list of things I have done to let Obi-Wan Kenobi down.

"Oh, yes, of course," I reply hastily, smiling at him. "You can pick me up at eight."

I brace myself, waiting for Obi-Wan to look in alarm toward my bedroom again, but nothing. Anakin does not have an outburst. I don't know whether to be happy or alarmed at that.

Alarm is winning.

Obi-Wan merely grins in relief and stands. I stand too and escort him to the door.

"We're going to have a good time, Padmé," Obi-Wan says softly, his smile achingly gentle. "I promise."

I nod, conflicting emotions of self-disgust and genuine gratitude battling within me, making my smile brittle. "I believe you," I say with a slight nod. "See you soon, Obi-Wan."

He returns the gesture, bright smile still in place. "See you soon, Padmé."

Then he is gone.

I stare at the door for a moment, bracing myself for the coming confrontation with Anakin. He's not going to be happy with this. I know he's not but I hope he can see reason and understand why. After a long moment of resignedly preparing for a fight, I finally turn toward the doorway of my bedroom.

Anakin is standing in the arch, staring at me.

His face is twisted in such fury that I have to consciously stop myself from taking a step back. But that doesn't cause nearly as much dread as the sickly gleam of his yellow eyes.

Ignoring the unease slithering down my spine, I speak, consciously keeping my voice calm. "Anakin. I know you're not happy with this. I'm not exactly thrilled either, but I have to go to the ball with Obi-Wan. I don't have much choice."

"Oh?" he ask softly and the word is filled with such malice that I nearly flinch.

"Yes, Anakin," I continue reasonably, struggling to keep my emotions in check. "We have to come up with an adequate plan to explain why we're together. I can't simply blow off Obi-Wan to go to the ball with you especially since I was so vehemently opposed to you being on the Sith list. The Jedi would begin to investigate you and at that point, my word would mean nothing; I'd be untrustworthy in their eyes. They would see me as emotionally compromised. That's the last thing we want, Anakin. We have to do this correctly. Anything less will cast suspicion on you."

"On me?" he asks slowly. "Or on you?"

"Both," I shoot back, anger rapidly gaining a foothold within me. "You think you're the only one who has anything to lose if the Jedi find out about you, that I've been hiding you? No! I'd be lucky if I wasn't _arrested_. I'm not shielding you from the Jedi for reasons that can't be shared with the class, Skywalker," I spit out, my anger at his earlier rejection flowing out of me like water gushing out of a crack in a dam. "I'm doing this because I care about you!"

He moves so quickly that I release a startled cry. One moment he is across the room, the next he is in front of me. Each of his hands grab either of my arms and he pulls me roughly to him, my body molding to his like two connecting puzzles pieces. He looms over me for a moment before bending even closer to me, stopping only when we are nose to nose. His grip is tight but it's more uncomfortable than painful and just firm enough to leave bruises.

"If you cared about me, then why did you agree to be _his_ date?" he spits out venomously, yellow eyes boring into me, shaking me slightly with each word. "Do you want him? Do you … love him?"

My mouth opens and closes, anger and outrage and fear being drowned out as comprehension crashes into me. He's jealous? Anakin is jealous?

It seems a ridiculous label to put on him because this possessive, nearly crazed anger I see in his eyes can not be adequately described with so juvenile a notion as_ jealousy_. No, this is much deeper, much darker. It alarms and thrills me in turn. Force, what the hell is wrong with me?

"Obi-Wan is my best friend," I answer carefully, willing him to calm down, staring him intently in the eye. "And I love him, but he's not the one I want to _be_ with."

He is silent and so closed to me that it makes my heart ache. Why is he acting this way?

"Then why did you let him touch you?" he asks quietly, a tinge of _something_ in his voice, something stormy and low, something heart wrenching … something dangerous. "Why are you going with him?"

He slowly releases me. I stare up at him with huge eyes but he says nothing, merely moves to the door brushing past me. I am aghast and confused by his reaction. His anger is nearly overwhelming and I don't understand why. Where is all of this fury coming from? Did I miss something?

"Anakin, Obi-Wan is my best friend," I repeat again, swallowing over the lump in my throat, "but you're the one I'm with. Why can't you understand why I'm doing this?"

He pauses, his back to me, his face to the door. I hope for a moment, that he'll come back so we can talk, that he'll assure me that he trusts me and understands why I have to go to the ball with Obi-Wan. He needs to understand that I'm protecting the both of us, and that although I may be accompanying Obi-Wan, I want to be with _him_.

He does none of those things.

"If he touches you again," he says almost gently, with such conviction that all I can do is stare at him with a heart filled with dread, "I _will_ kill him."

Then the door is open and he is gone.

I stand in the middle of my living room stunned and horrified.

Numb, I go to my couch and sink into my chair, before burying my face into my hands.

#*#*#*#*#

I don't know how long I've been sitting on the couch when the official message comes in.

I stare at the missive announcing the Peace Ball with unblinking eyes as I absorb the words. As Obi-Wan said, it's to be held in a little over a week, an incredibly short amount of time to throw together a Ball that will surely be no less than decadent. Another mark against Valorum: How much of the Republic's money is being used to hold this event so quickly on such a scale?

Too much.

I blink slowly, allowing the PADD to fall from my fingers.

The state of the Republic's finances is the last thing on my mind.

Anakin is. Anakin Skywalker is the only thing on my mind.

Sighing, I allowing myself to fall onto my sofa, exhausted and quite finished with battling the amusement park ride that is my emotions.

I don't know why Anakin was so angry, I don't know why he reacted so strongly. I thought we had gotten past such childishness. Normally, I'd be tempted to write it his behavior off as immature and juvenile, but it had struck me as more than that. What the hell is going on with him? I doubt that this is something I can simply investigate. I need him to tell me why he reacted so strongly to my going with Obi-Wan. Mere jealousy can't explain something like that.

Dear Force; how, how, _how_ do I get through to Anakin Skywalker?

I've made a crack in his walls but it's not enough. From the little I've glimpsed of Anakin, and if my mother is right, the hell Anakin Skywalker has been through is even worse than mine. A mere talk won't reach him. I've reached an impasse and need to try a different tactic. I have to hit harder and I know just how to do it. I saw it on Naboo when it was revealed through the naive assurances of my nieces. I then carefully stored the information in my head until it was needed.

I had planned on doing it after the talks, but this is a perfect opportunity, one that I'm not going to pass up. If he won't accept help from me, then perhaps he'll accept it from _her_.

I'm going to get through to Anakin Skywalker and I'm going to do it by finding his mother.

I stand up suddenly, resolutely and move to my bedroom to gather my things. I'm going to go on a little trip to a Force forsaken, sandy, Outer Rim planet.

I'm going to Tatooine.

I'm going to find a Skywalker.

End of Chapter 28: Please review **FAVORITERS AND ALERTERS**. It means a lot to authors to hear what you think about the chapter.

**Chapter 29: Coming Soon**

Same song, same verse. Sorry for the long wait. All I can say is that I will continue to update until this fic is complete, no matter how busy and insane and crazy life is. Quick heads up to younger readers: Adulthood is a trap. Don't be in too much in a hurry to grow up. It's _hard, hard_ work, lol. Thank you to my reviewers from the last chapter. They mean so much to me:

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**IMPORTANT**: One more thing, I'm writing a series of Captain America post the Winter Soldier one-shots that will be on Ink Well only. If you haven't seen the movie, please do. It was truly amazing, better or at least equal to the Avengers. Check it out. If you want to read the one-shots you should see a link to it as soon as you get to the Ink Well on the left of the page. I'LL TWEET ON TWITTER WHEN THE ONE-SHOTS ARE POSTED. So, please check my Twitter for updates. Thanks guys.

God bless, guys. Stay safe and sane.

WrittinInStone

P.S. I nearly forgot: One of my reviewers asked me about my name? The name I've chosen to go by is Petra, but WrittinInStone is just the name I picked for this site. So… if you see Petra on Ink Well it's me. I won't be changing WrittinInStone because I've become quite attached to it and Petra, of course, has already been taken. Sorry for the confusion. :)


	29. Hope Revisited

IMPORTANT: Sorry for the delay guys. Here's the new chapter. I'm hoping the long length will make up for the long wait. Please check my Twitter, which you can get to on my profile, for all updates on new fics including the Captain America teaser I'm going to post soon. Also, it's imperative that you become acquainted with my website, because if any of my fics are ever deleted, then I'm probably going to leave this site behind for good. Thank you and _please review_ guys. Don't just favorite or alert. Telling me what you think of the fic truly only takes a moment and it means so much to me. Help motivate me because I'm feeling some serious fandom burnout. Other than that, please enjoy the chapter.

**Chapter 29: Hope Revisited**

**By WrittinInStone**

**_P_**_admé _**_A_**_midala_

I don't waste time gathering my things.

It's going to take all of the time allotted before the Peace Ball to do what I have planned, so I need to leave as soon as possible.

It won't be difficult to obtain the coordinates for Tatooine as it is now part of the Galactic Republic. My biggest worry is finding someone to go with me. Venturing to an Outer Rim planet on my own is an undertaking even I am hesitant to do alone.

I can't take Anakin for obvious reasons, the one concerning me the most being that he's angry with me. That's not to mention the fact that this is _for_ him and I don't want him to try and stop me. I don't know why he hasn't found his mother but something tells me that it's for the very reason that I'm looking for her; she makes him vulnerable, soft. A Sith Lord with such a weakness would be a rather … inconvenient complication.

No, this is definitely something that needs to be done without his knowledge.

Taking Obi-Wan isn't an option. He can't leave the Jedi for such a long time without cause. Even if he could, asking him after what just happened with Anakin doesn't sit well with me. I don't want my boyfriend being any angrier with me than he already is. Besides, Obi-Wan is inquisitive. He hears what I don't say and is incredibly apt at connecting dots. It wouldn't take much for him to figure out what's going on and that would be disastrous.

No, I need someone who will come with me without asking questions that I can't or won't answer. I need someone who trusts me, someone who I can depend on. I need …

I snap my fingers in epiphanous relief as the answer comes to me. Quickly moving to my comlink, I punch in the necessary frequency as the perfect person comes to mind. He's known me for a long time, been in my service since my tenure as queen and is one of the few people I can still trust. This will be extremely short notice and it'll almost be inappropriate to ask him, but I need him. I hope he'll choose to come with me.

I frown as the comlink sends me directly to his call back records. Leaving a heartfelt and pleading message, I disconnect the call and finish assembling all of my essential gear before moving out of my apartment.

I hope my contact will get back with me soon and be able to accompany me, but if he can't, then dangerous or not, I'm going by myself.

No matter what, I'm going to find Anakin Skywalker's mother.

#*#*#*#*#*#

I knock firmly on the door to his apartment.

Drawing on my willpower to remain still, I stand in front of Anakin's door, waiting for him to answer.

I'm going to tell Anakin that I'm leaving.

It should surprise me that I'm here, but it doesn't. Never before, for anyone other than my family, have I given an account of my actions, have I ever concerned myself with providing an explanation on where I'm going. It never even occurred to me to leave without telling him. We seem to be so far beyond my, admittedly, childish dodging of him from before that it's laughable.

So, here I am standing in front of his door in the long, luxurious hallway on his side of 500 Republica, hoping that he answers the door before someone comes down the hall and recognizes me.

Knocking on the door again, I fold my arms, forcing myself to be patient.

I admit, there is an ulterior motive: I just want to see him.

I feel almost compelled to try to talk to him again, to see why my going to the Ball with Obi-Wan angers him so much. It's all I've been able to think about since yesterday and I've hardly been able to sleep over concern for it. Anakin Skywalker is the man I love and I don't want to hurt him. But Obi-Wan is my best friend and he's done so much for me. I literally wouldn't be here if not for him. The very last thing I want to do is hurt either of them, but placating Obi-Wan has injured Anakin. And while I knew that Anakin would be upset, I never realized that he would react the way that he did.

Is it because Obi-Wan is a Jedi? Or is it because Anakin truly and deeply cares for me and is just monstrously jealous? I don't know, but both options disturb me greatly. One means that he doesn't see Obi-Wan as an individual at all, merely a part of the Order and the other means that his care for me is wading into potentially dangerous and unhealthy territory although I suppose that the latter became obvious a while ago.

I need to find out why Anakin is so angry. Something tells me there's more going on than I know and I've never been one to ignore my instincts. I need to do a little digging. Perhaps Anakin's mother can help me with that when I find her … _if_ I find her.

Not only that, I need to know more about the enmity between the Jedi and the Sith. The more I get to know Anakin, the more I realize that being a Sith is more than being part of a supposedly less benign sect of Force Users. It means embracing fury, hurting your enemies and striking out without any regard for peaceful means. It's about power and dominance, _possession_: It means that the Jedi weren't entirely wrong. The anger and rage I see in Anakin at times is the complete antithesis to the calm sense of purpose that I feel emanating from Obi-Wan.

It's the Dark Side, it has to be and it's more than a little alarming. It's a little late to realize that I should have listened to the Jedi, that I was too quick to scoff at them, but it is something I now acknowledge. My natural suspicions of any type of authoritative body are usually warranted and something that has helped me in the past, but this time, it did the opposite. My anger at what the Jedi had done to me and all that they're hiding from the galaxy blinded me to knowledge that I needed, information that would have better prepared me to deal with Anakin.

I will not make another such mistake in the future. Any information that will help put me on a level playing field with Anakin Skywalker will be immediately absorbed. The man is not only physically stronger than me, but his ability to use the Force and the natural advantages that gives him places him on a completely different level altogether. As of right now, the only thing keeping me safe from him is his feelings for me. The safeguards I have in place to check Anakin, to inform the Jedi of his identity if something happens to me, is an absolute necessity because I'm nearly positive that if he had any thought that I was going to betray him, I would have absolutely no chance of escaping him.

It's pretty clear to me that falling for such a dangerous man is probably the stupidest thing I've ever done.

Yet despite it all, I _do_ love him. I love Anakin Skywalker, _so_ very much, and I don't want to leave while he's still angry with me. I want to talk to him, I want to understand him, I want_ him_ to talk to _me_ … and if he thinks he's not going to, I'm going to kick his Sith Lord ass until he does.

I am pulled from my thoughts when finally, the door opens.

I inhale sharply at the sight of him. He is dressed in dark pants and a dark robe, the latter opening in the front and revealing the smooth, tight, golden skin of his chest and stomach. Losing focus for a minute, my eyes run over his delicious body. I smirk, filled with covetous glee; he's so beautiful and he belongs to _me_. I'm aware that _I'm_ the one being possessive right now, but I would stand Anakin down that it's different. I'm not telling him who he can and can't talk to.

Yet.

"Did you come over here just to ogle me?" he asks tersely, pulling me from my admiration.

An eyebrows rises as my eyes snap to his face at his tone. He is, quite clearly, still furious.

"No, if you must know. Being able to ogle you is just a side benefit," I retort cheerfully as I fold my arms, refusing to allow his bad mood to affect me. "Are you going to let me in or are you going to make me stand in the hallway for this whole conversation?"

He stares down at me mutinously for a moment longer before slowly moving aside. I stride inside, grimacing at the sheer darkness of the apartment. I'd be surprised if even an ounce of light was able to survive in here.

"Why are you here, Padmé?" he grinds out through gritted teeth from his place in front of the door.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm leaving Coruscant for a while. I won't be back until the Ball," I respond calmly as I take a seat on his dark couch.

"Is that so? Going somewhere with _Obi-Wan_?" he says the name with such viciousness and malice, that I glare at him hard.

"No, if you must know," I respond, my jaw tightening, my gaze still sharp on him. "I have to deal with a personal matter and I'm telling you because I don't want you to worry and because I'm asking you not to follow me. There is something I have to take care of and I don't—"

"—Want me to know about it?" he cuts me off, finishing mockingly.

"Exactly," I confirm, the challenge clear in my voice and eyes.

"So, what is Obi-Wan going to wear to the ball?" he asks, his voice cool as he turns the subject_ back_ to the Jedi. "Are you two going to match?" His voice is so venomous, his eyes so angry that I have to take a deep breath not to allow my emotions to rage in response to his.

"It is customary for two people attending a social event together to coordinate," I say cautiously, carefully not to label Obi-Wan and I as a couple. That would not go over well.

"It is now?" he asks with arctic silkiness. "I'll have to remember to tell my date that."

"_What?_" I say exclaim, shooting to my feet, eyes wide with disbelief. "You have a _date_."

"Of course, I do. You don't expect me to go to the Ball alone do you?" he asks, crossing his arms, an infuriatingly smug smile on his face. "After all, it was your choice to go with Obi-Wan. So, I made a choice too; to go with a friend of my own. I hope you two have a fine time, _I _sure plan to."

His tone lends no mistaking as to his meaning.

Fury, hot and heavy fills inside me so quickly, so dangerously that I see red. How _dare_ he!

With a strength and startling lack of self-preservation born of impotent rage, I lift my foot and bring it down on his with everything in me.

He goes down like a sack of bricks.

"If you think I'm going to be jealous over some two bit hussy you've decided to drag to the ball, then you're out of your _Sith _mind!" I bite out at him in rage. Childishly, I stick my tongue out at his huddled form and storm out of his apartment, uncaring that furious yellow eyes follow me with the promise of vengeance.

Anakin Skywalker is the _biggest asshole in the universe_!

#*#*#*#*#*#

It's a long way to Tatooine.

I release a quiet exhalation of breath as I rest my head on the rest on the back of my chair.

I am sitting in the passenger's seat of the cockpit, watching the streaks of space that indicate we're traveling at the speed of light fly pass at an impossible pace. I could not be more grateful to Quarsh Panaka, the former head of the Royal Naboo Security Forces, for accompanying me on this journey. When he returned my com call, I couldn't even finish the words of my imploring entreaty before he had agreed to take a leave of absence from his current position as head of security for a high-ranking Nubian official to go with me to a remote, Outer Rim planet.

He didn't ask for details or pry for information I was obviously unwilling to share. He simply agreed and boarded when I arrived to Naboo, immediately proceeding to take over control of the ship and do all the leg work to get to our destination, all the while providing quiet strength and support as he had done during the years of my Queenship.

It seems I will never stop owing this man for all he's done for me. I'm so glad that he's here, that despite it all, he still cares for me. It's a blessing that he's handling all of the grunt work and allowing me to free my mind for the matter at hand: Our trip to Tatooine.

This venture is a stretch and I know it. I know nothing about Anakin's mother. I don't know her name, I don't know Tatooine at all, I don't have an inkling as to where she'll be, I don't even know if she's alive. This could all be a pointless endeavor and that fact is never far from my mind.

But I have to try. This is what I'm supposed to do, I know it.

"We should be there in a few hours, milady," Quarsh says into the silence, interrupting my thoughts. "Until then, you should get some rest."

I nod, smiling softly at him. Obediently, I rise and move to the stern of the ship. Lying down on my back on the firm cot, I stare at the ceiling, trying to relax but aware that it's most likely a lost battle.

I'm not sure why I'm so determined to find Anakin's mother, it's just that I can't forget how he looked when he talked about her, how his face softened and his eyes grew warm with a nearly forgotten, unnamed emotion.

I'm not sure how they were parted and I'm even less sure of why he never sought to find her, but after seeing his reaction to her, I can't help but think that he still cares for her. Even though he was a complete shit to me yesterday, I still want to do this for him. Everyone deserves a mother, and he needs her. I just know it.

If she can reach the little boy inside, then this whole trip will be worth it.

I just hope she's alive and well, and willing to leave everything behind for her son.

#*#*#*#*#

We finally reach Tatooine and to say I am unimpressed with this planet would be the understatement of the millennium.

I had been warned about this place by Quarsh and other circumspect people whom I drew upon to gain a little preemptive knowledge of this planet. I took their words seriously, but no amount of information quite prepared me for the sheer reality of Tatooine.

Why the hell would anyone live on this Force forsaken planet? It is sandy, dirty, it smells and I'm sure that every manner of crime is occurring somewhere in this city at this very moment. This place should be burned _to the ground _and then salted so that nothing else will ever be able to live here again. What compounds the issue is that the place we are now is probably the worst part of Tatooine.

Quarsh and I walk steadily and with confidence through the huge, bustling settlement of Mos Eisley. It is collectively referred to as the 'armpit of the galaxy' and now I know why. It is everything horrible about Tatooine stuffed into one misbegotten hellhole. If at all possible we would have avoided it, but to my great regret, it wasn't an option. We were told in no uncertain terms that if the information we needed about Anakin Skywalker's mother existed, then the person who knew it would be there. It's called Chalmun's Spaceport Cantina and it is the drawing point for every vile, villainous sentient in, if not the whole galaxy, then definitely the whole of Tatooine.

Quarsh and I stand out like sore thumbs. Even though our clothes are of the same ilk as those belonging to the people around us, we still look like royalty simply because we're clean. With the way the denizens are scurrying about in stitched clothing and patchwork outfits, our relatively new and _tidy_ looking attire is drawing both conspicuous and inconspicuous attention from nearly everyone.

I am used to blending in, to moving unnoticed especially while engaging in my karmacide activities, but this is different, _Tatooine_ is different. No amount of adaptive clothing is going to hide the fact that we don't belong here. This place houses a spirit, a sense of being that I've never before encountered, but it marks its residents and other beings of its lot with sharp definition. It's a sense of shiftiness, of perpetual observation, of sneakiness. Quarsh and I don't have that aura and it's proving to be quite noticeeable.

We ignore the residents as we continue on our way, but I'm less than pleased with the amount of attention we're drawing. The fact that no one's moving to engage us is a positive, but not unexpected. With all the various_ transactions_ occurring here, we would not be the first people coming here looking such a way. Noticing people like us is quite probably the nature of this place; anyone with money is immediately spied out and marked.

The phenomenon is duly noted.

Quarsh and I pause as we finally arrive at Chalmun's Spaceport Cantina. Quarsh turns to me and with several surreptitious signals, indicates that I follow behind him and watch our backs as he goes inside first. I nod, allowing him to do the job I asked him to come here with me to do.

Looking around cautiously, I move inside behind him, careful to keep an eye on my surroundings.

The cantina is dark with an elongated, brightly lit bar sitting in the central part of the room. Greasy tables liberally adorn the room and are sparsely decorated with species from all over the galaxy. The air is gray and thick with the smoke of illegal narcotics and a live band of Biths play on a stage on the far wall. In short, it is everything I imagined it would be; seedy, unclean and full of sentients who look well able and willing to shoot first and never ask questions later.

Everything and everyone stops when we enter. The music pauses and the denizens turn to look at us curiously, even a pet mooka stops licking itself to observe us.

Paying the stares little attention, we move to an empty, shadowed booth in the corner. Though we're here for information only, playing along is a must. In order to remain unmolested, the people here have to believe that we belong here and are more than willing to engage them in any and every way, despite our obvious monetary advantages.

We sit in silence as we survey the bar, meeting the eyes of those who stare at us a little too long, and allowing our eyes to skim over those wise enough not to look at us directly. Eventually, the music begins playing again and the denizens go back to their own business, or at least, they appear to.

"Our contact told us to we are to talk to someone called Kitster Banai," Quarsh speaks quietly as his eyes steadily and continually move around the cantina. "He should be able to give us more information on your friend."

I nod, fingering my blaster as I too maintain constant vigilance. This is a very dangerous place, relaxing at all is impossible and any lapse in acuity could prove deadly.

Resisting the urge to fuss with the thick clothe around my neck, I pause upon catching a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a metal strip on the wall. The image staring at me is startling. My skin is now a pale blue and my eyes are green and sharply almond shaped. There are white and red lines running down the bridge of my nose and my ears are floppy like that of a dog. The large cloak adorning my person hides the rest of my facade. I shift slightly and glance at Quarsh who is similarly guised.

We took great pains to conceal our identities. Doing anything other would be incredibly foolish. I don't know how big Anakin's presence is here, or if he monitors this place at all, but if someone is diligent enough to send him or whoever's in charge, a picture of the suspicious strangers who don't look as though they belong, then there would be hell to pay. Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo cannot be seen here. Padmé, secret girlfriend of Darth Vader, a Sith Lord, cannot be seen here either. Better to go through the headache of concealing ourselves now rather than deal with the headache of the Senate and my more-than-slightly crazy mate.

We sit for several minutes before a waitress walks up. She is of average height with short, red hair and toned, weathered skin. Her teeth are white and straight and her smile is broad.

"Hello, darlings," she says cheerfully, her eyes roaming over me. "What're you having today?"

"I'll have a Corellian brandy," Quarsh says casually, effortlessly, an easy but guarded smile touching his lips.

"Same," I say politely, with a small nod.

She smiles at each us sweetly before moving away, floating to the bar.

My eyes linger on her for a moment, before I turn my gaze back to Quarsh. Quarsh's contact says that this Kitster Banai would be watching us, waiting to see if he thought it prudent to approach us. He'd better; it took a whole lot of money to set up this meeting on such short notice. Thus far, we've done nothing threatening at all; nothing that would stop him from meeting with us. It's taking him entirely too long to contact us and that is_ not_ good. This place is making me uneasy and I want to leave. _Now._ But I need this information on Anakin and his mother, so I'll wait, but Banai had better have some Force kriffing amazing knowledge for us.

I am pulled out of my thoughts when someone, a random denizen, slides in beside me without preamble. The man is dark skinned with long twists littering his head. His eyes are brown, his nose is long and straight and he's wearing a sand colored vest that leaves his arms exposed.

I inhale sharply as I jerk away, startled. Quarsh's blaster is already pointing at him, but the interloper raises up a hand clutching a meat pie in the universal gesture of surrender.

"Now, you don't want to shoot me. How the kriff you going to get your information about Skywalker?" he says jauntily, grinning at Quarsh as he takes a huge bite out of his food.

"And you are?" Quarsh asks piercingly, glaring murderously at the intruder, refusing to give anything away.

"Kitster Banai at your service," he says, with a mocking bow of his head.

I press myself tightly against the wall as I stare at him in disgust and displeasure, teeth clenched in suppressed fury. Just because I copulate with Anakin on a wonderfully regular basis doesn't mean I'm now okay with men being this near to me. This asshole is _way_ _too close_.

Quarsh notices my extreme discomfort. "Move," he commands tersely, hand still wrapped tensely around his blaster. "_Now._"

The man, Kitster Banai, merely shrugs again and moves beside Quarsh instead, sending me a lecherous leer.

I return his gaze stonily, unintimidated and more than a little angry at this fragger's behavior.

"How do we know you are who you say?" Quarsh asks the stranger, blaster still drawn.

"Trust me," the man responds drily, taking a bit of his pie, "no one is going to want to impersonate me. Besides, does it really matter who I am as long as you get your information?"

"Yes, it does," I reply bitingly, "we want to know the truth, not some bullshit fed to us by a bored stranger."

The man turns his dark gaze on me. "I have no way of confirming my identity, well, at least no way I'm actually going to share with you. You're just going to have to take my word for it, my sweet." He smirks at me, his gaze shooting to my breasts and staying there.

"Very well," I concede with a small nod. "But if you're fucking with us, we'll put a blaster bolt between your eyes." My voice is deadly serious. That's because I am. I'm not a cold blooded killer, so I'll set it to stun, but I promise after it hits him between the eyes, he'll _wish_ he were dead.

He pauses, staring at me and for a moment, his eyes sharpen, and I see intelligence and something else there. But before I can discern what it is, it's gone and the cocky smile is back. "Fair enough." He raises a hand, signaling to the waitress to bring a third beer.

"So, you want to know about Anakin Skywalker," he continues cheerfully, shamelessly as he nods, with a smile, at our waitress as she nears. Quarsh and I grow silent as she returns, and I wonder for a moment if she heard this moron's less than inconspicuous words. I dismiss it as a needless worry when she simply places our beers on the table with a smile—a quick quirk at the corner of her mouth—before moving on.

"Actually," I respond, meeting his eyes, "we want to know about him … and his mother."

The facade drops immediately. The false cheer and humor goes out of his eyes and the arrogant smirk disappears from his face. The intelligence and _cunning_ from before is back in his eyes. I meet his gaze head on.

"Why?" he asks simply, his gaze on me.

I return his stare, contemplating my options. This man obviously has the information I need, I can tell by how he acted to my reference to Anakin's mother. But how honest do I be with him? I don't know him, I don't know if he's Anakin's friend or enemy. I don't know what he'll do with the information I tell him, but something is telling me to throw him a bone; to tell him, if not the whole truth, then a part of it.

"I heard of his story and it moved me," I reply slowly, carefully watching his face. "There are still some sentients in this galaxy who are good and compassionate for its own sake. I wish to help them if I can."

"Where did you hear his story?" Kitster Banai asks softly, brows furrowing as he listens intently. "It's not exactly town gossip."

"Around," I answer simply, unwilling to give him any more. Let him take that for what he will.

We stare at one another for a long moment; a stalemate. My gaze is straight, resolved and steady. Finally, after what feels like a very long time, he sits back in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You're a tough nut to crack, darling," he says as he takes another bite of his food, finishing off the pie and brushing his hands together to dispel crumbs, "a tough nut indeed."

I merely raise an eyebrow and remain alert, quite sure that I've passed some sort of test.

"What is the name of Anakin Skywalker's mother?" I ask softly, staring intently at him.

He's quiet as he gazes at me, a sad smile adorning his features. "Talking about her could get me killed, you know," he answers sitting back in the seat, folding his arms across his chest.

I frown.

"Confused?" he asks, cocking his head at me, "then perhaps you don't know as much as you should. You might not be ready for what I have to tell you, sweet cheeks."

"Just tell us," I interrupt coldly, my voice hard. This poodoo is not going to keep this away from me after all I've done to get here.

Banai moves deeper into the booth, his face strangely calm. "Very well, but remember, you were warned. The story of the Skywalkers is a tragic tale, but one that is all too common on Tatooine. Like many slaves, no one knew where they came from only that, at one point, they were the property of Gardulla the Hutt. Gardulla was a cruel bitch and creative, seeming to only find pleasure in debasing, degrading and tormenting other beings. Unfortunately, Shmi Skywalker, Anakin's mother, was one such poor shag. Shmi did many horrible things to protect her son, to keep her son away from the greatest horrors of slavery. When I was young, I was sure that Anakin didn't know. The only reason I found out is because I walked in on her performing one of her … _duties_. I don't think I have to tell you what they entailed."

Banai's voice is hard with disgust and I swallow, forcing the rising bile at his implication down. Banai is right, it is a common horror of slavery, but dear Force, that doesn't make hearing it any easier to bear. And to realize that Anakin, _my Anakin_, went through that is sickening.

Banai shakes his head, "It was horrible, I was _horrified_ … and a kriffing coward. Even up to the day Anakin disappeared, I couldn't bring myself to tell him how much his mother had sacrificed for him. The older I grew, though, the more I realized that the little fragger _knew_. He knew the level of humiliation his mother endured for him and it tore him apart. I should have known it then, but I was young and didn't give a krif about anything other than my own survival. As a result, the connections that I made about a lot of the shit going down at Gardulla's palace didn't happen until much later."

I stare at him for a moment, jaw clenched. "How did Anakin react to … finding out about his mother?" I ask steadily, hating myself for even voicing the question, but needing to _know_.

Banai's face darkens and a frown descends over his features. "As an adult looking back, I can pinpoint the moment when Anakin realized what Gardulla the Poodoo was forcing his mother to do. We were eight—Anakin having just turned eight—and it was nearly time for lights out when he entered the slave quarters. I remember the atmosphere suddenly turning cold and dark. I think we all felt it because we turned to the entrance in unison and there he stood, his face void of all emotions. Shmi was in the corner, in the place that had been allotted to them, waiting for him. She beckoned for him to come to her and was so confused when he didn't. Anakin was not prone to disobeying Shmi; he knew any defiance on his part would make things harder on her. But this time, he didn't do as she said, he simply stared at her. He did it for so long and with an expression so dead that it terrified me. Shmi was frozen in place and I wonder if she suspected that Anakin had found out about her. Finally, he simply nodded and disappeared right before the slave gate closed for the night."

"That's against slave codes, isn't it?" Quarsh murmurs, his gaze intent on Banai.

"Absolutely," Banai answers shortly, nose flaring a bit. "It was tantamount to a death sentence in some slaver owners' eyes and Gardualla the Bitch was no different. Shmi kriffing lost it. She was terrified and rightly so. If the slave master came in the next morning and found him gone, Anakin could be whipped or accused of running away, even if that wasn't his intention and the penalty for trying to escape it automatic death. All slaves were required to be in quarters by the time the gate closed. That was an absolute rule. When it closed, that was it. Shmi knew she couldn't get out to find him, and he couldn't get back in until the quartermaster came to release us in the morning."

"You sound like you might have been frightened," I observe, noting the inflection in his voice.

"I sure as hell was," Banai admits unashamedly, with a nod of his head. "That Anakin had blatantly broke one of the most important rules that all slaves had to adhere to shocked and horrified us all; no slave had ever disobeyed the laws in Gardulla's palace in such a way. We'd seen the punishments she handed down for lesser offenses and could only imagine the horrors that awaited Anakin when he was discovered. Shmi was destroyed. She ran to the gate and begged for Anakin to return to her, that if he simply stayed at the gate they'd make the slave master understand. He didn't return and I fell asleep that night to Shmi's weeping."

Banai looked up at me, his lips stretched into a thin, humorless smile. "When I woke the next morning, Anakin was actually _inside_ the fragging slave gates. Before I was able to ask him how the hell he had managed to get in after it was locked, an alarm ran through the palace. It seems that during the night, Gardulla the Hutt was strangled to death with, what was later discovered to be, one of the devices that Anakin's mother had been forced to use during her duties. At the time, I thought it was pure luck that a nameless, faceless assassin had finally taken the Queen Bitch out, but now, I understand why the other slaves and occupants of the palace looked at Anakin with such fear. It could never be proven, but they all believed that Anakin had somehow killed Gardulla. They knew he hadn't been in the slave quarters when it closed, everyone had heard Shmi's cries, but it was a crazy, insane thought, that such a small child could kill a fully grown Hutt. Either way, it was never pursued. But it would not end there. The tale of Gardulla the Hutt's mysterious killer would be one that followed Anakin and Shmi, and would draw to them the type of attention they didn't want or need."

"What type of attention?" I ask, interrupting him.

An eyebrow rises, "I'll get to it, darling," he responds, his eyes moving down to my breasts again.

I clench my teeth, resisting the urge to snap my fingers in front of his face.

"Hey," Quarsh says evenly to Banai, "eyes up and back to the story."

The informant rolls his eyes and shrugs. "Fine," he says with exaggerated annoyance. "Upon Gardulla's death, I thought that we would be freed. Not so: Gardulla had many debts and they were paid by selling her slaves. I was sold to a merchant in Mos Eisley but the Skywalkers were sold together to a Toydarian named Watto. Despite it all, it looked as though things were looking up. Their labor was hard, but there were no more special duties for Shmi. Shmi worked in town and Anakin worked in Watto's shop using his skills to fix all types of transports and devices."

"For a while, things were much better. Anakin and I remained friends because the shops of our owners were close. I got to see him smile more; some of the lines of hardship begin to disappear from his made me glad to see his life improving. Anakin was my best friend, you see," he speaks softly, eyes faraway. "He was so smart and cunning, just … _different_. He was fearless even in the face of slavery, ever holding to a fierce sense optimism, a surety that he and his mother would escape their bondage. I admired him, was in awe of him and for a while, we were actually okay."

"How do you be _okay_ as a slave?" I ask sharply, disliking the way he's painting the picture of Anakin's new circumstances. Slavery is slavery and it's _never_ good, it's _never_ okay.

"Not having the shit beat out of you makes it much better for one," he responds coolly, staring piercingly at me. "Knowing that your mother isn't being degraded for other people's pleasure is another big one. How about that for being okay, sweetheart? Not all slavery is created equal, honey. Sometimes, it's not so bad under a good owner, especially if you're dirt poor. Good owners are rare, but they exist."

I stare at him stonily, eyes narrowed. "So, this new owner was better?" I respond ignoring the latter part of his words, unwilling to concede that any type of slavery is good, even if what he's saying does hold a grain of truth.

His lips purse, "Watto was, as owners went, the lesser of the evils, definitely better than a lot of the bastards out there." Banai's face tightens as his expression clouds over. "But everything changed when the Jedi came. Watto changed, _everything_ changed."

My heart jolts at that, and I shift slightly in my chair, hiding my frown. The Jedi? What the hell do the Jedi have to do with this? Anakin has always reacted a certain way when I mentioned the Jedi, but I never realized that his aggression and bitterness toward them could be personal. I take a breath, steeling myself to endure what comes next. I don't want to believe that the Jedi contributed to who Anakin is today, nor do I want to assign them unnecessary blame, so I won't pass judgment until I hear the story.

"Long story short, two of them, a master and his apprentice, came to Tatooine to repair their ship. As soon as they arrived everyone knew. The Jedi have never troubled themselves with our planet and their presence here was novel; a true event. They were eventually led to Watto's shop, a place where they could find cheap parts and labor for their ship," Banai says quietly, his fingers tapping erratically on the table. "When they saw Anakin, the older one, a Jedi Master with long, brown hair, immediately honed in on him. His eyes focused on Anakin and stayed. I remember because I was in the shop at the time for some reason or other. I remember that Anakin stared at the door for a whole minute before the master actually entered. Their eyes locked and it was like something passed between them. It confused the krif out of me as a child and frankly, it confuses the krif out of me now."

I am still as I listen, Banai's words sticking in my mind. That moment might confuse the man in front of me, but it doesn't confuse me. The Jedi must have known or at least suspected then that Anakin was force-sensitive. It's the only reason the they would take such an immediate and noticeable interest in him because as horrible as slavery is, they can't save the galaxy.

"The Jedi's interest in Anakin only grew," Banai continues. "Anakin, never one to pass up an opportunity, saw it and acted. He made them promise that if he helped them fix their ship, they would help him and his mother. The Jedi agreed. They went to Watto and struck a deal: Enter Anakin into the Boonta Eve Classic with the Jedi as his sponsors; if Anakin won, the Jedi got the parts for their ship, but if he lost, they would give Watto their ship and all the money that they had. Watto agreed, sure that there was no way that Anakin could win because it was proven that no human had the reflexes to do so, or so we all thought. But then, the impossible happened: Anakin Skywalker entered the Boonta Eve Classic and he _won_. A young, nine year old human boy won the most dangerous pod race in the known universe against some of the dirtiest, most cutthroat opponents in the galaxy. He won the race with reflexes and skill never before seen in a human being and humiliated all of his competitors in the process. It spread through Tatooine, and later on I would find out, the whole of the galaxy's underworld, like wildfire."

Banai smiles and it's genuine. "It was truly a glorious day. Anakin was a hero among the slaves, among _humans_. We celebrated him for days and revered him for the glory he brought us. The best thing is that, technically, after that, Anakin Skywalker was a freeman."

My gaze sharpens on the dark skinned man. "What do you mean?"

"Unbeknownst to Anakin and Shmi, the Jedi put a clause into the agreement. If Anakin lost, the Jedi would give Watto their ship and all the money in their purses as payment, but if Anakin won, they would get the parts for their ship … and freedom for Anakin and his mother. They were going to tell Anakin and congratulate him and Shmi for their newfound freedom but they received an urgent transmission from their newly repaired ship—fixed during our celebrations—and left, secretly entrusting the knowledge to be delivered to the Skywalkers by a well paid informant. But Watto was cleverer than the Jedi suspected; he had the informant killed before he could tell the Skywalkers the news. Anakin and Shmi never knew they were free, most people didn't and those that did shut up about it for fear they would go the same route as the informant. "

"How do you know all of this?" I demand, my mind reeling from what Kitster Banai is telling us, as I realize and absorb just what he's saying. "If you were so young and didn't really understand what was going on, how do you know all of these things?"

"Information is my job, honey," he answers solemnly, "and this was personal. I wanted to know what happened to the Skywalkers, what really happened to my best friend. I kept digging until I could dig no more, until no amount of threats or bribery could gain me more information."

"Do you know the names?" Quarsh interrupts suddenly, face calm and steady. "The names of the Jedi."

Banai nods. "I didn't know then, but that was one of the things I made a point to find out. The master was a Qui-Gon Jinn and the apprentice was an Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin was furious at their defection, and the anger that I had seen during our days as Gardulla's slaves returned in full force. From that day forward, he hated the Jedi and especially despised the two Jedi who had lied to him and abandoned them."

"But they didn't abandon him, not forever," Banai continues softly, voice filled with regret. "Anakin never knew, but the Jedi returned for them. They were gone for only a month before they returned to Tatooine for the Skywalkers. But by then, Anakin and Shmi were gone. Both of the Jedi took it really hard, they blamed themselves for not making sure that the Skywalkers were set free before they left."

My heart sinks at his words, as what they truly mean hits me. If Anakin was nine when this occurred, then that would make me fourteen and Queen of Naboo… and fighting against the Trade Federation invading my planet. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon didn't leave Anakin and Shmi for nothing, they left them there to help _me_, to help liberate my planet. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon could not, in good conscious, take Anakin and his mother into a war zone. But they didn't forget him, they tried to inform him that he and his mother were free, but Watto made sure that didn't happen. Then, by the time they returned for him to make good on their promise, to make sure they were free, both Anakin and Shmi had disappeared. But Anakin doesn't know that, in his mind, he probably blames the Jedi for what happened to him, for what happened to his mother.

Dear Force, Anakin's revulsion to the Jedi makes sense now. He blames them for abandoning him, for breaking their promise. But he's never reacted toward the Jedi with the level of hatred that Banai is implying; is it still that deep? The thought chills me because I'm pretty sure I know the answer. It would explain his reaction to Obi-Wan the other day, the man he thinks lied to him and left him and his mother to their fates. In the face of what Anakin thinks, it's no wonder he reacted the way he did.

And I agreed to go to the ball with Obi-Wan. I, essentially, denied Anakin so that I could go with the man he thinks betrayed him. Dear Force … it's a wonder Anakin was even able to remain civil to me what with the amount of anger and hatred he probably harbors toward the Jedi and most especially, Obi-Wan and Master Jinn. Stang, I've made a kriffing mess. How do I make this up to him?

Another thought strikes me. Surely Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon wouldn't forget someone like Anakin, someone they essentially failed. Is that why Obi-Wan insisted that Anakin be put on the Sith list because he remembered the young Force Sensitive slave boy they tried hard to save but couldn't? If that's true, then why did Obi-Wan act as though he had never heard of Anakin Skywalker before? I realize that Obi-Wan wouldn't have come out and explained his reasoning and suspicions to me, but it still strikes me as duplicitous. I know that's not fair to Obi-Wan; he's not obliged to spill all of his secrets to me. I'm being irrational and I accept that, but that's because it's _Anakin_ we're talking about. Obi-Wan had to have recognized Anakin. How else would he have been able to find him so quickly without a photo, but just a name when I asked him to find Anakin Skywalker? He literally found him the next day according to Anakin. Why didn't I realize how strange that was then?

This, all of this, everything that Anakin and his mother has endured, pains my heart. That the Skywalker were so close to freedom only to have it kept away from them by what must be one of the galaxy's worst sentients is heartbreaking.

I release a deep breath and close my eyes, marveling at the horrible turn of events that so severely influenced Anakin and Shmi's life. How different would everything be if the Jedi had taken Anakin and Shmi right then? Would I have met Anakin as a young boy? Would we have still gotten together? Would he still be a Sith? The amount of 'what ifs' are mind boggling, but ultimately, futile. I'll never know if things would have been different between us had the Jedi's intentions gone according to plan. All I know is that he's with me now and despite all the pain it took to get him to where he is, I'm grateful that he made it.

I am pulled from my thoughts as Banai continues.

"The Jedi's arrival and the subsequent revelation of Anakin's abilities was the beginning of a poodoo storm of trouble for the Skywalkers. By then, Watto realized exactly what he had in Anakin and had no intention of honoring his deal with the Jedi. Anakin Skywalker would make him rich beyond his wildest dreams and there was no way he was giving the boy up, even to the Jedi, without a fight." Banai pauses and shakes his head. "The potential for that many credit turned Watto, a once semi-decent sentient, into a fragging monster."

I grimace at his words. The phenomenon is all too common in this universe. The promise of gold, wealth and riches turns creatures of all species into horrible beings. Only the truly strong are able to resist the pull of credits. Watto, the Toydarian, was obviously not strong.

"It didn't take much for him to decide to enter Anakin into the Vinta Harvest Classic," Banai says, pulling me back to the story. "It's another important pod racing event. It's held on Malastare and is second only to the Boonta Eve Classic in popularity and scope. The mortality rate each year is over sixty percent, and though it's worse for the Boonta Eve Classic, the difference is that Anakin wouldn't be racing for an important cause, but for more coins for Watto's pocket. Knowing this, Shmi refused to let Anakin enter. Allowing him to compete the first time took an incredible toll on her. Watching her son race at impossible speeds against fraggers like the Dug, Sebulba? It nearly killed her and she didn't want to go through it again. She told Watto as much."

Banai exhaled deeply and looked me in the eyes. "Watto didn't take being told 'no' by a slave very well. The Toydarian really was quite clever because he waited for the day before their departure to confront Shmi. It was to stun her enough so that when he departed, she'd be too overwhelmed to object. He never expected her to oppose him so readily, so forcefully and it angered him when she did. He beat Shmi nearly to death. He did it in their residence while Anakin was at the shop, but we all heard her screams from our homes. I wanted so badly to do something but I couldn't, none of us could. You can't interfere with an owner and his property, we'd be put to death if we did, so we did nothing. Watto left Shmi bleeding and broken in the Skywalker's home and then went to the shop to tell Anakin that she had agreed to allow him to race. Anakin, was confused at his mother's ready acquiescence, but eager to race again, for another chance to make a name for himself and possibly gain freedom for him and his mother.

"It was Watto's intention to take Anakin directly from the shop to a ship destined for Malastare, so that Anakin would never realize what Watto had done to Shmi, but while Watto's back was turned Anakin slipped out. He had no intention of leaving without saying goodbye to his mother."

Banai grows silent and I swallow as dread fills me.

"I won't go into details on Anakin's reaction upon returning home and seeing his mother a bloody mess on the floor, but… it was bad. Really, really bad. Seeing him like that was like being thrown back in time to Gardulla's palace, only this time it was much, much worse. The knowledge of what his mother had gone through to protect him, what she continued to endure to keep him safe was a burden that shattered him," Banai pauses, his voice drifting off. "You have to understand, darling. Anakin Skywalker loved Shmi Skywalker more than he loved anything and anyone. She was his whole world. He was so protective of her, so gentle with her, that when he realized what Watto had done to her, that, once again, he was powerless to protect her, he snapped. Winning the Boonta Eve Classic was supposed to give him power. It was supposed to give them status, give them importance, protect them, protect _her_. But it didn't, his pod racing skills, the very thing that was supposed to be their salvation, is what got his mother beaten."

Banai releases a deep breath, one that is echoed by a slightly pale Quarsh.

"Watto showed up and shit hit the fan. No one knows what went on in that house, but it was loud and I didn't see Anakin again. I know that whatever happened, someone beat the kriffing hell out of Watto. _Badly_. He came out of there running and shaking, face filled with loathing and fear. He was bruised, bloody and beaten much like Shmi had been. I admit, I was so frightened that it took me days to go to their place, but whenever I did, the Skywalkers never answered the door. I found out a short time later that Watto sold Anakin away from Shmi. We don't know who he was sold to, or when it happened, only that one day we all just knew that Anakin Skywalker was gone."

Banai pauses and closes his eyes again. "Shmi was heartbroken," the darker man murmurs, confirming my fears. "It didn't matter what Watto did to her: She wouldn't work, she wouldn't eat, she wouldn't do anything. Watto realized that he had lost both of his slaves by selling Anakin away from Shmi and decided to cut his losses while he could. To him, killing Shmi would have been a colossal waste of money, so he sold her. I'm not sure where. After he sold her, the Skywalkers faded from everyone's minds, everyone's but mine."

I swallow thickly as I absorb Banai's words, forcing the moisture brimming behind my eyes to remain hidden. I am sickened, utterly sickened. What monster sells a child away from his mother? What sort of villain takes advantages of a defenseless woman and child? My Anakin … he has been through _hell_. Absolute hell.

"Truth be told, many were glad to see Anakin go," Banai admits softly, "There was an incident involving a group of boys and a couple of malfunctioning speeders that occurred about a month before the arrival of the Jedi. I was in another city at the time. When I returned, I found that they thought Anakin was responsible for the carnage, but, once again, nothing could be proven. I didn't believe it then but now I wonder. The few friends that Anakin had were very important to him. He was loyal to a fault, but he was also very possessive. It's a trait common in many slaves; when you don't have much, you cling to what you do have. If Anakin found that they'd betrayed him, he wouldn't have reacted well. When I think about everything Anakin was accused of, including the silent condemnations, I wonder just how far Anakin Skywalker's anger could push him."

"You said that talking about Shmi could get you killed?" I ask suddenly, quietly, quite literally allowing my mind to skim over yet another bit of staggering information about Anakin. So far, in Banai's story, Anakin has been suspected of killing or injuring more than three sentients. I just don't … know how to take that. I've seen violence in Anakin before, and Anakin has admitted that he's killed, but what Banai is saying is finally forcing the knowledge to sink in.

It's a singularly unpleasant sensation.

"Yes," he murmurs, leaning forward. "One of the survivors of the speeder incident immediately began defaming Anakin Skywalker. He was one of the few people to oppose him as senator. The guy, Teed, had lost his leg in that accident, you see and only grew more bitter as the years went on because of it. He said some bad things about Anakin, called him a monster and such. He did this for several days in a drunken rage, telling anyone with ears that Anakin had not changed and that he was evil." Banai sits back in his chair again, a wry smile on his face. "Then he called Shmi Skywalker a whore. No one thought much of it. That is until Teed was found hanging by his entrails over this very cantina."

I blink, startled but unable to be surprised.

"No one knows exactly why Teed was killed, that was until another guy, Crimi, showed up dead. It was revealed that he too made several disrespectful comments toward one Shmi Skywalker. After that, it became pretty clear: Don't talk about Shmi Skywalker. People became afraid to even mention her name after that. No one knows who was killing these people, Anakin himself had an air tight alibi to account for his whereabouts when half-hearted investigations into their deaths began. No one really cared about Teed and Crimi; they were pure scum. Not only that, the gifts that Anakin brought … persuaded people to look the other way. Most were more than happy to mind their own business. I didn't know about any of this at the time because I was off planet for business. It wasn't until I returned to Tatooine that I learned about Anakin's new role as senator of the Arkanis sector. To say I was surprised would be the understatement of the century. You know what happens after that, darling."

Yes, I do.

Sitting back in my seat, I contemplate Banai, making sure to remain aware of my surroundings as I do. This was very, very informative and explains a lot about Anakin Skywalker. It's so much that it's going to take me some time to sort through everything he's said. But I'm not quite finished yet. There's one more thing I need to know.

I lean forward, finally voicing the question we had come so far to ask. "Do you know where Shmi Skywalker is now?" I ask him, staring at him intently.

"I do not," Banai admits after a long moment. "I tried to find out but that was one of the things I could make no leeway on whatsoever. No one knows what happened to her after Watto sold her. Anyone who cared was too afraid to ask. Later on when I began my search into the Skywalkers, every lead dried up and, Watto, the only one who knew for sure, had left Tatooine almost immediately for parts unknown after selling the Skywalkers. But good news," Banai says, leaning forward with a vicious smirk on his face. "He's back here, in his old shop, right now. He comes back here for reasons we only speculate on, but you've happened to visit on the one day that piece of shit actually comes to Tatooine. The Force is truly with you, lady."

It is indeed.

I fish a small, heavy pouch out of my bag and surreptitiously pass it to Banai.

"Thank you for the information," I murmur with a nod as I rise, Quarsh following my lead.

"Wait, darling," Banai says suddenly, slowly. "If you happen to come across 'around' again, please let him know that Kister Banai hasn't forgotten him."

I stare at the dark skinned man hard, searching his face. Finally, I nod before Quarsh and I leave Chalmun's Cantina behind.

#*#*#*#*#

My mind is focused and my gaze is straight as we move toward Watto, the Toydarian's, shop. On the outside, I am calm, but on the inside, I'm reeling from the sheer amount of information Banai shared with us about Anakin Skywalker. Anakin _was _a slave. I won't say that I quite _disbelieved_ him, but there was a part of me that hoped that it wasn't true, that it was an embellishment of already harsh and unforgiving circumstances. But now, I have a close hand account of a mere fraction of his experiences being property and it sickens me to my core, especially knowing that he was property to such ruthless and unforgiving creatures.

If what Kitster Banai has said is true, then it's no wonder Anakin is so possessive of me. He doesn't want me to be taken away from him just like he was taken away from his mother. Anything that grabs my attention, that is important to me that isn't him, is an enemy, a potential rival for my affections, something that could supplant him in my mind.

Dear Force, it's a wonder Anakin isn't a raving lunatic after everything he's been through. And then adding the circumstances with the Jedi into that? It's a kriffing mess. What's worse is that there is no one to blame in a situation such as this. It's was quite literally, a series of unfortunate events that culminated into a horrible outcome for the Skywalkers.

It's taking everything in me to keep my emotions in line. When I think about what Anakin has endured, it makes me want to cry. For all that I've been through, I've never been taken away from my loved ones. I've been captured, but it was only for a short time; I wasn't enslaved. I know my experiences are nothing to scoff at, that they were horrific, but it does pull me up short.

Hell manifests in so many ways that it's arrogant to think that one person's hell is worse than another's. I don't know if Anakin would have been able to handle my hell, but handling _his_? The thought makes me recoil. Could I have handled being ripped away from my mother? Watching her or Sola or my father be demeaned day after day with no way to help them, to alleviate their pain?

It would kill me.

I am drawn from my thoughts when our hired transport stops. Taking a deep, but weary, fortifying breath, I exit behind Quarsh. Critically, I survey Watto's shop as my companion pays our fare. It is a light beige dwelling, just like every other on this planet. But unlike the others around it, this place shows signs of poor upkeep. The boards over the windows are falling down and parts of the building are starting to deteriorate. It's a wonder it's still standing.

With a nod to Quarsh, I enter without preamble, with him right behind me. My eyes run over the place, carefully taking in every detail. It is small but surprisingly spacious. There are oily parts and bits of machinery everywhere. It is greasy and dirty and pungent.

In essence, a veritable shithole.

I walk forward, steeling myself as I do so. Being in here makes my stomach turn. This is one of the places Anakin walked as a youth. This is one the places of his imprisonment, his slavery.

I want to burn it to the ground.

"Ah'chu apenkee," a voice sounds from the back room and I stiffen as I hear footsteps. "Hi chuba da naga? Kee chai chai cun kuta?"

The speaker steps out and the sight of him makes me want to gag. The odor coming off the sentient is inciting nausea within me. He's blue and beige with a long, leathery nose and huge, crooked teeth. He's covered in all type of filth as evidenced by the visible layer of dirt on his skin. He moves toward us on small wings that seem inadequate to carry his great girth.

This. This must be Watto the Toydarian.

"We don't speak Huttese," I lie coolly in Basic, forcing myself to reign in the sudden surge in fury that grips me. This is one of the monsters who abused Anakin. This is the being who beat a defenseless woman and tore a small child from his mother's arms. Truly, this poodoo in front of me is a sorry excuse for a sentient life form.

"Who are you?" he speaks again, in broken Basic heavy with a Huttese accent. "What do you want?"

"Are you Watto?" I ask, cutting to the chase. It's better to catch him off guard with my directness then to beat around the bush and give him time to wrangle up a bunch of lies.

His eyes narrow. "Who wants to know?" he asks and I can immediately see that I've put him on guard.

"He's in danger," I continue, ignoring his question. "Someone wants to kill him."

"Choy!" he exclaims, eyes narrowing. "What koochoo kung wants to kill Watto, eh?"

"_Me_," In the blink of an eye, my blaster is out and pointing at his head. My hand is steady and my focus is absolute. I have never been one of those humans who felt as though we were superior to every race in the galaxy. Rather, I've striven to judge each person based on his or her displayed merits. But this Watto? This Toydarian in front of me? He is no doubt the lowest that his race has to offer and I would be doing the galaxy a favor by shooting his head off.

"I have questions," I begin emotionlessly, my weapon never wavering, "about Shmi Skywalker and you're going to tell me everything I want to know or I'm going to blow your shit all over this hellhole."

Watto's mouth drops opens and gawks at me in surprise that quickly morphs into anger. "I don't know any Shmi Skywalker," Watto spits out as he regains his composure, his orange eyes wide with a plethora of emotions, fear being chief among them. I study him for a moment: What exactly is he afraid of? My asking about Shmi or the blaster against his skull?

"I have it on good authority that that isn't true, that you owned her years ago," I respond smoothly, cutting over his lie. "Stop lying to me, Toydarian. Doing so won't end well for you."

He stares at me mutinously for a moment before his leathery body slumps in defeat.

"So what if I did, eh? She's long gone now. I was good to her and she brought me nothing but trouble. Good riddance, I say," Watto says with a smirk. He's bluffing, trying to get me to reveal myself by angering me. He's only accomplishing one of those things.

"Where is Shmi Skywalker? Who did you sell her to?" I continue, ignoring his words. "Tell me now.

"I'm not tell you anything, beeogola nechaska," Watto replies mockingly. "You think I am afraid of a little girl with a little toy? I am not. Now get out of my kriffing shop before I call the clones!"

I move.

Before the vile filth in front of me can even blink, my blaster is reattached to my hip and I have pushed him into the shadows of his shop and my knife is to his wrinkled neck, pressing gently, a thin line of blue blood appearing on my serrated blade.

Quarsh smoothly moves in front of us, blocking us from view, leaning casually against the door as denizens continue to walk pass either oblivious or uncaringly of what is going on in the shop.

"I'm not going to ask you again, bantha poodoo," I murmur to him softly, smiling, dangerously gently at him. "You _will _tell me what I want to know, or I'm going to slit your neck and leave your thoroughly loathsome carcass here to rot. Then, those clones that you think so highly of will be happy to cart your disgusting hutt-spawn filth all the way to the trash heap because that's _all_ you're worth."

He begins to tremble in growing terror and impotent rage at my words, but my arm remains steady. This Toydarian's smell could fell a grown, raging Gundark, but I don't flinch. What he did to Anakin, my beloved, what he did to Shmi Skywalker is worthy of execution here and now. The only thing that stays my hand is the fact that killing him could be traced back to me while I'm still on this planet and I have no idea how much more time I need here.

"You wouldn't dare…" he challenges me shrilly, his shifty eyes wide with fear, the orbs darting between me and the exit.

"Try me," I answer tonelessly, allowing him to truly see how serious I am.

The only time I've ever killed someone was during Naboo's occupation and that was only to rid my world of invading rapists, murderers and robbers. But this _shit_ in front of me? I could use my knife to pierce his flesh right now then cheerfully kick his pathetic, lifeless carcass before walking out of this shop whistling and going home to sleep like a fucking baby.

That's how little his life means to me right now.

A helpless woman and her young, equally helpless son were at his mercy and he tore the son away from his mother in the dead of the night and sold him to a random sentient, one that I'm beginning to suspect shaped him into what he is today. He then sold the boy's heartbroken mother to yet another sentient with no regard for their feelings, their family.

This creature is repulsive and deserves whatever comeuppance that is coming to him.

Watto continues to stare at me. I don't know if he sees how much I want to end his life, or that I'm calculating the best way to permanently maim him, but when he opens his mouth again, it's to tell me what I want to know.

"I sold her to Cliegg Lars, a moisture farmer on the other side of Mos Eisley, but that was years and years ago," he spits out quickly. "I heard that he feeds her and married her!" he continues hurriedly in a clear attempt to placate me. "That's all I know, I swear!"

I glare at him coldly, emotionlessly. He's telling the truth, but only because his own skin is on the line.

"What about her son?" I ask, my voice able to freeze lava. "What happened to that poor boy?"

Watto stares at me.

"Son?" he askes in confusion. "What son?"

My face immediately grows blank as I absorb his confusion, his insincere, bullshit confusion.

He remembers Anakin Skywalker. He knows that Shmi has a son but even after all of this, he won't say anything. I wonder if what he did truly does prick his nearly nonexistent conscience, or if he thinks that I've been sent by Anakin to finally gain revenge for what Watto had done to his family. Either way, lying isn't going to save his sorry skin.

I stare at him for a second longer before backing away slowly. There's no need to linger here any longer: I've learned all I'm going to from Watto the Toydarian. Yet something stays me. Slowing down, I turn and make eye contact with the depraved, despicable being in front of me. When I do, the rage that has been building in my chest since hearing the account of Anakin's life from Kitster Banai explodes.

I know what I must do.

Everything that Banai told us about this particular Toydarians speaks to Watto's pride and his disdain for humans, especially, it seems, women.

It should only take one small push.

"Koochoo sleemo," I murmur, speaking loud enough for him to hear me. "Echuta kung."

In a dirty, glassy mirror to the right, I see Watto's eyes widen in fury.

_There._

Watto pulls a blaster out of nowhere and points it toward me, all-consuming rage in his huge orange eyes.

I react.

Before he can even blink, I've retrieved my blaster, aimed it at his head and fired.

The shot echoes through the shop and seemingly, through the whole of Mos Eisely. Quarsh, near the door, shifts slightly but does not ease his vigilance.

I lower my blaster and walk toward the body lying on the ground. Its chest isn't moving up and down. It's still, growing cold and its eyes have no light, no presence. I stare at it for a few moments before savagely kicking it in the chest.

I said that I wasn't a cold blooded killer and I meant that when I said it. But when I came face to face with this monster … I just_ couldn't _walk away and leave him alive, not when he's hurt my Anakin so much. My blaster was set to stun, but I deliberately and with careful intent, changed it to kill.

I killed him. For the first time in my life, I killed someone when there was no war.

I should feel dirty, tainted, _soiled_ and perhaps I will later. But right now, all I feel is satisfaction; satisfaction that I've destroyed some filth, that I've made the galaxy just a little cleaner, that I've avenged the man I love.

As I sweep out of the shop, leaving no evidence that I had ever been there, the eyes of Watto the Toydarian continue to stare sightlessly at the ceiling.

#*#*#*#*#

The homestead is the type of bleak, gray barren dome that I would expect in a place like this.

Quarsh and I walk slowly toward the moisture farm, giving the denizens inside plenty of time to see our arrival and to assess us as non-threatening. In the little literature I've read about this place, the whole of Tatooine is treacherous being filled with numerous natives that are incredibly dangerous. The denizens of this planet can literally, never be too careful.

As continue to move toward the farm, I close my eyes for a second, sending a quick prayer to the Force that Shmi Skywalker is indeed here. This is the first real lead we've had on her and I hope it bears fruit. The more I hear of Anakin's past, the more I'm convinced that he needs his mother.

Two men exit as we draw near. They come out with weapons visible and at attention. One is short and blonde with a huge scowl on his face and the other is tall and round with dark brown hair.

"Who are you?" the short one asks immediately, fingering his blaster pointedly.

Quarsh begins to reach for his own weapon, but I hold a hand to stop him. These people have every right to be suspicious of our presence. We won't pull our weapons unless we have to.

"I'm Johanna and this is Finnick," I respond smoothly, bowing slightly. "We're here in search of Cliegg Lars."

"What for?" the short barks at us, staring at us unkindly.

"We wish to speak to him about a very important matter," I reply, smiling at him.

"Oh? What's this important matter?" he asks, surly.

I stare at him sharply, my jaw working. I don't have time for this man's bullshit.

"We were told that he lives here," Quarsh speaks up, ignoring Short Man's statement as he moves a bit closer to me.

"Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't," the short one answers cryptically, smirking meanly at us.

So, the Lars are not here then. Shit. Another roadblock. Fortunately, these men seem know where they are, so all is not lost. I give the short man a hard look before turning my gaze and my attention to the taller one. Short Man has made it clear that he's not interested in helping us, so there's no need to waste my time trying to get him to. The tall one has, thus far been silent. I hope he'll provide the information we need.

"We mean the Lars no harm," I say quietly, gently, looking Tall Man in the eyes as I use all the skill acquired in my time as queen and senator to persuade him to tell us about the homestead's former owners. "We found some information that may help them. If we do something wrong, you know what we look like and you have our names. You should be able to apprehend us easily. But we need your help; we really need to find him. We need to talk to him."

The shorter one frowns, but I can tell by the way the taller one's shoulder relaxes a fraction that I have him.

"Cliegg and Shapora Lars no longer live here," the taller one says politely, giving his companion a pointed look. "They live in Mos Ethna now. Cliegg hit it big a while back and moved from this place."

I nearly start at his words. Shapora Lars? Could that be …?

I smile brilliantly at him, pleased with his cooperation. He blinks at me and then blushes, the flush moving from his neck and to sand weathered cheeks. I nod at him, hiding my humor at his reaction to my smile. He's sweet; he reminds me of one of the young farm boys on Naboo.

Quarsh, however, doesn't bother to hide his amusement and lets out a bark of laughter as we bow in gratitude and take our leave.

#*#*#*#*#

Mos Ethna is, by far, the most civilized area on this planet we've been to and I appreciate it more than I can adequately express.

Quarsh and I ride in silence as the local transport we hired moves us closer to the home of one Cliegg Lars. Nearly a year ago, Cliegg Lars engaged in a trade with a clan of local Jawas. It should have been a simple exchange; a few coins for a few parts. Cliegg Lars made the trade only to realize that there was a little more in his purchase than what he paid for. He found Corsuca gems, extremely rare and extremely valuable crystals, in his parts. No one knows how such items came to be on Tatooine, or in the possession of Jawas for that matter, considering the fact that Corsuca gems are made on Yavin Prime. No one even knows why the Jawas, a race quite fanatical about cataloguing their finds and checking its value, would give away such a precious metal, but it mattered little. Cliegg Lars was now a rich man… and so was his wife, Shapora Lars formerly known as Shmi Skywalker, or so I hope.

Now, as rich as Hutts, they moved their entire family to Mos Ethna, one of the few places on their planet where they, and their newfound wealth, would be safe.

We're headed there right now.

I press my hand to my face covering, keeping it close to my skin as we continue to ride. Everything is various shades of brown and beige, the sand seemingly being the building material for everything in sight. Citizens in fairly decent clothing walk the streets with a single-mindedness present in those intent on accomplishing a task. It's good, because if they're focused on their business, they won't be focused on mine.

It wasn't hard to get the exact location of Cliegg Lars' new home. Mos Ethna is cleaner, has more of an authoritative presence from the Galactic Republic and thus, has fostered a bit more of a trusting attitude toward strangers simply because more reputable strangers visit here. Their more open attitudes made it easier to gather information, which is welcomed.

Soon, our ride progresses to some of the nicest homes I've seen since being on this planet.

Before long, we're knocking on door and stepping back, allowing some distance between us and the entrance as courtesy dictates. Quarsh and I tense slightly as a man cautiously opens the door and steps outside. He is a little above average height with sun bleached hair and a beard. His skin is weathered and lined; a testament to his survival in the brutal sands of this planet. A blaster is in plain view at his side. Seems that even the wealthy come out with weaspons in hand.

"Who are you?" he asks gruffly, staring suspiciously at us. "Why are you here?"

I smile at him, silently willing him to lower his guard.

"My name is Rue, and this is my friend Thresh," I respond warmly, curtsying to him, pleased that Quarsh follows my leaves and graces him with a short bow. "We're here looking for Shapora Lars. Watto, the Toydarian, told us that she was here. Are you Cliegg Lars?"

I hoped that being honest would ease this process, but if nothing else, the tension in his body increases.

"I'm Cliegg Lars," he asks tersely, his glare deepening. "What do you want with Shapora?"

"We simply want to talk to her," I hedge, unwilling to tell him exactly why we are here. He's acting a tad off and it's beginning to alarm me. I exchange glances with Quarsh; he's read the situation as well and has casually placed his hand on his blaster.

Good old Quarsh.

"Well, I can't help you," Cliegg bites out bitterly. "She's gone. Left in the middle of the night nearly a year ago with nary even a note to explain herself. I did everything for her. Why did she leave me? I freed her, was kind to her, loved her. We were married for years and I thought she was happy, but she left me without even an explanation," his voice trails off as he continues to murmur to himself in disquietude.

"You say you freed her?" I ask cautiously; deciding to take a risk. "You freed Shmi Skywalker?" I am deliberate in my use of her name, hoping that he'll be so dejected that he'll recognize it but overlook it in his distress.

"Yeah, I freed her and look what she's done to me! Me and my son!" he cries, his eyes wet with emotion. I nod inwardly in triumph. Shapora Lars _is_ Shmi Skywalker. One mystery solved. "She had no children, no other family, so why did she leave? She didn't tell me she was unhappy, if she was, I would have changed, done anything for her, I would have made her happy. I loved her, I loved her, I loved her, I would have made her happy."

I step away from him, eyes slightly wide. Cliegg Lars sounds unhinged and his litany is said with the familiarity of a rant that has been repeated quite a bit. It's more than a little sad. And what does he mean Shmi had no children? She didn't not tell Cliegg about her son, Anakin Skywalker? Curious. If she didn't, then she must've had a good reason. Regardless, seeing the heartbroken man in front of me doesn't sit well. His words ring true: He loved her. He truly did and I can see the anguish in his voice, in his features. Shmi's leaving has clearly broken something inside of this man and I'm not sure how he's going to recover or if he ever will without a proper explanation from her.

"Sir," I say hesitantly, my heart moved to help someone in so much pain. "I'm sure that if she left, she had a really good reason for doing so."

The older man's head snaps up and any sanity in his eyes dissolves into a deep, dark rage.

"Don't patronize me, little girl!" Cliegg Lars bellows, his voice that of a wounded bear. "She's not welcome in this house ever again! She's betrayed me and a Lars _never_ forgets. Now get your hutt-spawn assess off my property before I'll do something that _you'll _never forget!"

#*#*#*#*#*#

Shapora Lars formerly known as Shmi Skywalker is gone.

I rub my face with one hand while the other holds on to the carriage as we make our way, in abject failure, back to our ship.

Shmi Skywalker is gone. She left Cliegg Lars nearly a year ago and is probably long gone from Tatooine. I came all this way, dragged Quarsh all the way to the edge of the galaxy for nothing. This whole trip was for _nothing_.

I rest my head back against the seat, consciously keeping my face covering wrapped tightly to keep the sand out. It's not working. Sand is in crevices of my body that I didn't know I had. It's no wonder Anakin never talks about this place, why anger is swift to descend over his features at its mere name.

This place is truly Force forsaken.

And I came here for nothing. Shmi's departure from the Lars' homestead coincides almost exactly with what would be Anakin's campaign in Mos Espa. She must've left upon hearing of a senator with her son's name and simply never returned to Cliegg. She could be _anywhere_. She could be on Naboo, Corellia, Coruscant for all we know. No one has an inkling of where she is and to linger in this place much longer would be unwise after what I did to Watto.

It is losing battle to fight the despondency and frustration descending over me. I thought that finding Shmi Skywalker was the answer to getting through to Anakin Skywalker. I thought that finding her would break the stronghold that anger had on him. So convinced was I of my own convictions that it never crossed my mind that Shmi Skywalker would be dead or absent, or out of reach. My optimism failed me this time.

Shmi Skywalker is gone and I have no idea what to do now.

Yet something about Cliegg Lars' sudden fortune refuses to leave me alone. Things like what happened to him never actually happens in real life. I wonder … did Anakin Skywalker really abandon his mother as all accounts suggest? Or was he responsible for the Lars' sudden dramatic increase in riches? If Anakin loves his mother as much as Banai says, then it would be well within his character to ensure that his mother was elevated from a life of hard labor and drudgery to a life of comfort and wealth. It would make much more sense than Anakin simply ignoring his mother's possible slavery, or her misery as a wife to a moisture farmer, which, by the very nature of the work, would automatically lead a hard life. Anakin is behind the Corsuca gems, I know it. But did Shmi know? Is that why she left Cliegg, to find her son? If she did, how it is that she hasn't found Anakin by now?

I rub my face, shaking my head.

So many questions, too many questions. But they all lead to one thing: I did not find Shmi Skywalker and I have no clue where she is.

"Milday!" Quarsh suddenly calls in alarm from the driver's seat. I immediately move to the side to cautiously peer outside. There is a woman standing in front of our ship.

Quarsh and I immediately pull out our blasters as we stop a distance away from her and our ship, our only way off of this Force forsaken planet.

It's the waitress, the one in the Cantina at Mos Eisley. What the hell is _she_ doing here? She was nice enough at the bar, so, why the hell is she trying to start trouble now?

As I study her, I try to figure her out, why she's so strange to me. Her demeanor at the cantina was unusual. She struck me as odd then although I couldn't quite put my finger on it as to why. At the time, my gaze kept being drawn to her and I didn't understand it.

But now I know.

It was her _smile_. It wasn't thinned with worry or caution; it wasn't belabored under the heavy weight of stress and poverty. No; it was easy, quick, _genuine_. She was so at ease, so comfortable in the cantina, and it was in such a direct contract to my own anxiety, that even if my highly agitated state, I noticed it even if I didn't understand or actively realize it until now.

"Who are you?" I demand, moving my blaster where she could see it. "Why are you here?"

"I heard you're looking for me," she says quietly, simply, her stance confident, her eyes cool but her voice calm and polite.

"And who the kriff would you be?" Quarsh asked sharply, lowering his weapon nary an inch.

"I'm Shmi Skywalker," she answers promptly, her eyes leaving my companion and settling on me. "Now, where is my son?"

End of chapter 29: Please review.

**Chapter 30: Counterblow**: Retaliation.

A/N: HUTTESE: Shag 'slave' / Ah'chu apenkee? 'Who are you?' / Hi chuba da naga? 'What do you want?' / Kee chai chai cun kuta? 'What are you doing here?' / Beeogola Nechaska 'Stupid little princess'./ Koochoo 'Idiot' / Kung 'Scum' / Sleemo 'Slimeball' / Kriffing 'fucking' / Fragging 'fucking'.

A/N2: Thank you to my reviewers for last chapter:

Haley Renee, Khorale, Jelsi4ever, IWasNeverReal, crimsonwolf49, Maestra sep, Queen Elsa Of Arendale, Chrisgocountyjr, Guest, Hache, Guest, Star of Artemis, anonymous, Solvdrage, ANON, Hoolagirl, Jedi Master Misty Sman-Esay, Silent Jay, waylela, Lord of the Disc, IceForrest7, ShadowsEdge96, Adrian, Glee Plane, Imperial warlord, Neila Nuruodo, K1ller288, didi, Madi, Guest, Tilan, Nelly, Guest, Cimmie, blueberry girl, Charlie, Rookworm, SaVrAiNoiR, Guest, a reader, Guest, Hello, Sara, O, Juliette, Guest, plldani, Ride4lyf, Alexxis T. Swann, The King in White, Guest, Resikat, master disk, ladysithari4370, joke head, Guest, apple, didi, Guest, Caitiann, Guest, Guest, Guest, badkidoh, female'wraith, BIP BIP, Mal, Guest, keytchtee, dis, Me, Starlight, amber, Guest, AAA, Loteva, Vaneesa85, dragonball256, m149, Rachie81, TheLaughingMan1, madscientistproduction.01, Lightning and Ice, LoverandaFighter, sharp52092, Young at Heart21, JourneyRocks31, Freefan1412, ILDV.

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	30. Counterblow

**Chapter 30: Counterblow**

**Warning: **Contains non-graphic references to rape.

**_D_**_arth _**_V_**_ader_

I grit my teeth as I limp back inside, my anger spiking to nearly uncontrollable levels.

How _dare_ Padmé. She steps on my kriffing foot and then has the nerve to _flee_? It is thoroughly unacceptable, unconscionable and she _will _pay.

Taking a deep breath, I straighten, drawing on the Force to cleanse the sharp pain in my foot. Eyes yellow, I stare at the door where Padmé disappeared, struggling to control my rage. There's an uncomfortable ache in my chest, one that's not dissimilar to being assaulted.

She was becoming_ mine_; she was submitting to my claim over her, my ownership of her. She was finding pleasure in my possessive care for her, but then that _kriffing_ Jedi arrived. She wouldn't be doing this if not for Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is _all_ Obi-Wan's fault! The Jedi think they can do whatever the hell they want and Obi-Wan is the worst of them. He thinks he can simply take my Empress away from me, but I will kill him before I allow that to happen.

I press myself against the wall, allowing my head to fall back as I take deep breaths.

It won't leave my head, it just won't remove itself from my vision. I can't stop seeing his arms wrapped around her. I can't stop seeing the way she smiled so warmly, so openly, with such care and … and _regard_ in her eyes. I saw how close she sat to him from my refuge in the shadows. She touched him in small ways, in a manner that bespoke great comfort and affection. There were no sexual overtones at all, their interaction was _serene_, laid-back. Padmé was relaxed with him in a way she never is with me. It was in that moment that I realized just how much she doesn't trust me.

It never bothered me before; it never crossed my mind that she was always on guard in my presence. But then I saw her with Obi-Wan and she was so _different_; so natural, so soft, so welcoming. It elicits a feeling within me that is foreign. It is _not_ jealously; such a ridiculous emotion is beneath me. Then what? It's an emptiness in my chest, an aching, hollow feeling. It's dark and deep, and highly unpleasant.

I don't like it.

I _hate_ it.

Fists clenched, I rise, moving to the veranda. It is late in the evening and the lights to brighten the night will soon flicker on. The skies of Coruscant are clogged as usual. Lanes upon lanes of never-ending traffic travel bumper to bumper to go absolutely nowhere. The denizens below have no idea how little control they have over their own lives. Or perhaps, they do. Perhaps that is why they scramble to gain just a little more in their lives; a little more love, a little more money, a little more power.

Am I any different? I seek to gain more power over Padmé Amidala, the woman I've chosen to be by my side. My desires are eluding me just as the desires of the many ants scurrying below elude them But I will not allow it to remain so; Padmé's going to regret allowing Obi-Wan Kenobi to touch her and he's going to pay for putting his hands on her. Obi-Wan Kenobi is going to pay … and not just for Amidala. He's going to pay for offenses old and new.

Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi …

I close my eyes as the name whispers in my mind, the mature, aged face of the present dissolving into that of a beardless young man with short hair and one long braid.

It's hard to believe that there was once a time when I adored the man. I was such a young boy when I met him and the only experience I had with tenderness, wisdom and love was from my mother. I never knew such from anyone else, most especially not from a male. Then, everything changed forever at the tender age of nine, when two men walked into Watto's shop while I was tinkering on parts for a droid I was building.

I remember my eyes connecting with the older man's—Master Qui-Gon Jinn's—and immediately knowing that he was special like me. I felt such a deep, profound shift in the Force that it startled me. I had never met another Force user, at least, not one with any real power like the being before me.

I thought it was destiny, that the time of my mother's and my liberation had come. In that vein, I welcomed the Jedi without reservation. We quickly connected on a level that I didn't know was possible for anyone other than my mother. I really liked Master Jinn; he was bold and brave. He had no qualms about voicing his opinion and was confident and steadfast in them. What I admired most was his knack for shaping things in the way he chose. That's how I wanted to be, what I was _determined_ to be.

I deeply admired the older Jedi and I can admit that at the time, I wanted to be just like him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a completely different story. We _bonded_ and it was on a level that was more primal and deeper then I knew was possible. We weren't just alike in our abilities: We were kindred spirits and he proved early just how much he cared about me. Or so I thought.

It had only been the second week of their arrival on Tatooine, about a week and a half before the Boonta Eve Classic, that I convinced the younger Jedi to fly with me. Flying and racing was something that I loved. It was one of the few things that I actually showed any interest in besides building things and for the first time in my life, I wanted to share it with someone else.

With Obi-Wan.

It was late in the evening, after I had finished working for Watto, that I dragged Obi-Wan to my speeder. I had built it myself from spare parts found in random places or stolen from Watto's shop. It flew like a dream and was my pride and joy, second only to the droid I was building for my mother.

Flying was not something that my mother approved of. It was dangerous and worried her to no end, but she allowed me to do it because she couldn't bring herself to forbid me something that brought me such joy. On this day, she was more agreeable to it than usual. Apparently having a Jedi with me made her feel better. It was strange to me because I had never gotten seriously injured while flying. But I simply dismissed it, labeling it as a "mom" thing; one of the many inexplicable things my mother did in relation to me. If having the Jedi with me made her feel better, then so be it. There was no harm done.

Soon, we were off. Obi-Wan did not like flying. I could tell as I increased the celerity of my speeder until the land whipped past us in streams of sand colored light. I swooped and dived, twirled and turned, a rush of adrenaline flooding through me like I'd chain-smoked a whole pack of death sticks. Obi-Wan was less than entertained. He looked as though he was about to hurl his dinner all over the side of my speeder.

"Obi-Wan, why don't you like flying?" I teased, amused by his flinching and habitual drawing up.

"I don't mind flying, but what you're doing is suicide!" he insisted, releasing a shriek that was barely manly before curling up within himself again as I dived headlong into Beggar's Canyon at full throttle, skillfully threading the needle.

I took pity on him as we made it out mere moments later. Obi-Wan's hair was askew and he looked worn out, like his heart had taken all it could.

I couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his face. Obi-Wan scowled at me, his normally serene features set in annoyance, before he too dissolved into laughter. Our mirth rang through the canyon even as I maneuvered the speeder to one of my favorite places in the Canyon. It was my favorite because of the way the light hit the landscape just as Tatooine's suns were setting: It arrayed the sand in a rainbow of color from the deepest blues to the brightest reds. It was the only time I was ever able to tolerate the omnipresent substance.

Obi-Wan and I climbed out and sat on the ever shifting ground. One of Tattoine's suns, Tatto II, was setting and the sky was alight with shades of orange, purple and pink, colors that would soon touch the land. It was beautiful.

After a long moment of silently enjoying the sight in front of us, I turned to look at him. "What's the Jedi Temple like?" I asked curiously, pulling my knees to my chest.

Obi-Wan smiled. "The Jedi Order is on Coruscant, the central hub of everything in the galaxy and the Jedi Temple is at the center of _that_. It's a huge structure with large towers that rise high in the air. It's so big it's like a self-sufficient city."

My eyes widened. "Really?" I responded in awe, mouth slightly open.

"Yes," he replied with a nod, gentle amusement rolling off him in waves from my amazement, "there's a reason why it's called the Palace of the Jedi. It has long halls and high ceilings that stretch so far above your head that you can't reach it! It is one of the most technologically advanced structures on the planet and is the home of all the Jedi in the Galaxy. When you return there after a long mission, it welcomes you. It feels like … well, _home_."

I stared in wonderment, thoroughly enchanted by his description of a place I'd never heard of before the Jedi came, a place that I never could have possibly imagined.

"Are there other kids like me there?" I pressed, eyes wide with anticipation.

"Yes and no," he said with a nod. At my confused expression his eyes softened. "No," he continued, "in that I can honestly say that there is no one in the galaxy like you Anakin Skywalker—"

I smiled.

"—But yes in that you will train with other young ones your age at the Academy. While there, you will learn the basis of our beliefs and what it means to be a Jedi. You must do your best there, Anakin, because in order to continue your training in the Force, you must be chosen by a Jedi Knight or a Jedi Master."

I frowned. "Does that mean that there are young ones in the Academy who don't become Knights?"

He nodded. "That's right. Some do not make it to knighthood and even less become a Jedi Master."

"That doesn't seem fair," I responded dubiously, forehead furrowed.

"What's fair?" Obi-Wan inquired gently, smiling softly at me. "Requiring something of someone who is not Force-capable? Or perhaps, forcing someone to be a knight when they truly do not want to be? There are many reasons why a young one may not be chosen to be a Jed's padawan, though there _are_ some who wish to be chosen who are not.

I mulled over that for a moment. "Will I be chosen?" I ask him, finally voicing my concern. I had never been very good at school. It was so hard to focus; it seemed as though the world was passing me by as I sat there learning only what my masters deemed fit for their property. Was it like that at the Jedi Temple? What if I got to there and failed, just like I did at the Slave's school? The thought sank in my stomach like the poor fools Jabba fed to the Sarlaac. To survive slavery, and be delivered to the Jedi Temple only to fail because of _school_ … I couldn't think of a worse fate.

My morbid thoughts were interrupted as Obi-Wan laughed lightly, brown eyes clear and bright in the fading light of Tatooine's sun.

"You don't have to worry about that, Anakin," he said, looking me straight in the eyes, suddenly so serious that it caused me to sit up, "you have already been chosen. You will be_ my_ apprentice."

I stared at him for a long moment, my whole body still. Then, like a deep basin slowly filling with precious, life-giving water, warmth flowed into me. A wide smile stretched my face and all I could feel was happiness. I still remember how I felt at his words, the sense of belonging, of imminent freedom. It felt _incredible_, like good things were on the horizon, that my mother and I would prosper, that we would be _free_. And it would be in large part due to the man beside me.

My friend.

I was happy for the rest of their stay, confident that the time of our salvation was at hand. I went into the Boonta Eve Classic sure that I would achieve victory and I did. The day I celebrated was a blur, for all I could think was that _we were free_. After being born in slavery, I had procured my freedom and with it, my mother's.

But the joy did not last. I returned from the celebrations honoring me for winning the Boonta Eve Classic only to learn that my saviors, my_ friends,_ were gone. I refused to believe it at first: Obi-Wan would never abandon me. He had promised to deliver my mother and me from our slavery; he promised that we would have new lives, better lives. He promised that he would personally assure that I was trained in the ways of the Force, that I would become his apprentice.

He _lied_.

And love turned to hate.

Such a thin line indeed.

Everything spiraled after that.

I changed.

My mother changed.

Watto changed.

Then, Watto did the unforgivable.

Then, I hurt him for what he did.

Then, I ended up in a cage, separated from my mother and slave to a monster with yellow eyes.

It's all Qui-Gon Jinn's fault, Obi-Wan Kenobi's fault. They are the reason I am what I am, who I am, _especially_ Obi-Wan. He weaved dreams like springs of deep waters, gained the trust of a little boy, used him for his own gain and then abandoned him. And now … now all I want is to see the light go out in his eyes. Just like he extinguished the light in mine.

I breathe deeply, dispelling the unwanted memory with the strength of my will.

Those days are long gone and now, Obi-Wan Kenobi is my enemy. I'm not fool enough to believe that Obi-Wan hasn't recognized my name or face by now. It's probable that the Jedi know that I'm the Sith if Obi-Wan disclosed the fact that the young, Force sensitive boy he once knew on Tatooine has now returned as a senator. It's too much of a coincidence and Obi-Wan is anything but a fool. But it must be confirmed. Are the Jedi amassing because they've discovered who I am? That would indeed be disastrous and would make advancing my plans infinitely more difficult.

I will seek to gleam more information from the Peace Ball. Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi will be there and if he shows any hint of recognition, I will not perpetuate the charade that he doesn't remember exactly who I am.

Which presents another problem: I need a fucking date. Padmé should be the one on my arm, but she has betrayed me for the Jedi. No matter, I will go to the ball and I'll go with a _friend _of my own. Then, she will realize how fortunate she is to be the object of my intentions and will not again suffer another man to even look at her for fear of my dereliction. Especially not Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi.

I stare at my com link for a moment before picking it up and dialing a frequency.

"Sloan, I need you to come to Coruscant," I say without preamble, cutting to the chase, "and bring a dress."

#*#*#*#*#

It has only been three days since Amidala left Coruscant, but it feels like forever. I did not realize how much time I spent with her until she left and the feeling of lack is unpleasant and discomfiting. I will not allow her to leave me in this manner again.

I am at my desk in the Senate, reviewing reports on the latest bullshit drama happening with the Arkanis sector, typing away on my console and giving all the appearance of an upstanding senator whose only concern is his constituents.

The days seem to drag, each one a lifetime and I find it increasingly difficult to focus on my work. There's so much that needs to be done: My continued investigation into the Jedi's revelation in the Force is a priority, so is preparing for the Ball and making sure my sycophants over the galaxy are doing Darth Vader's bidding. Discovering the reason for the Jedi's mass migration back to the temple has proven more difficult than expected. The Jedi Knights that I've captured have been hard to crack and usually end up being impaled on my lightsaber, leaving me with just as much information as I started with: none.

As difficult as it's been for me, I'm heartened that the Jedi have had it just as bad, if not worse. The Senate is in an uproar over the Jedi's pulling of their Knights back to the temple, and that without Senatorial consultation or consent. Public opinion of the Jedi Order is hitting an all-time low as the media gleefully provides continuous coverage of the growing number of deaths around the galaxy due to the lack of Jedi presence.

Anyone who doesn't think the media is working for the Dark Side is a fool.

As of yet, I have not been approached by the Jedi, but I feel that the confrontation between the Jedi Order and the Sith is nigh. I would match my skills with the lightsaber with even the most highly skilled of the Jedi including Master Yoda. However, I must steel myself for the battle ahead. Although the Jedi are not fondly viewed at this time, the general population stills holds them with a measure of awe. When I destroy the Jedi, I must have the support of the people. That shouldn't be too hard a task. People are as dumb as sheep. It doesn't matter how much good the Jedi have done, how much the Jedi has helped and delivered civilization after civilization over the centuries. One good scandal will turn the general populace against the Jedi for good. People are ever ready to believe the worse of powerful organizations, even if they have done nothing to deserve their mistrust.

If I play my hand carefully, I will rid myself of the Jedi and gain the love of the people at the same time, disgusting as the latter notion is. It is a situation that I will handle soon, but only after I deal with another, more pressing matter.

Nute Gunray.

The Jedi and their revelation are important, more important than anything, but I cannot get the thought of that Neimoidian fucker out of my head. He is somewhere on this planet, contaminating the already polluted air of Coruscant with the poisonous fumes of his life's breath. I am going to kill Nute Gunray and it's going to be soon. I have already decided what I am going to do and just the thought of it makes me pause and admire the sheer brilliance and kismet-like nature of it. Karma-cide indeed: Amidala is rubbing off on me.

I have already set events in motion to punish Gunray and all is going according to plan. Now, I simply need to keep an eye on the kriffer until I'm ready for him.

Pursing my lips, I expertly hack into cameras and various security software over the Senate, using the devices to pinpoint my quarry. It's a nifty skill I learned after killing Sidious. It was acquired from the one person I am willing to call a friend, the first person I've ever met since emerging as the Dark Lord of the Sith who called me on my shit; the person who is, as of last night, making her way to Coruscant.

Shaking my head slightly, I turn my concentration to finding the leader of the Trade Federation. I am perusing the Senate's confidential security files when a com message from Darth Maul comes in.

I answer it immediately, standing and moving swiftly to the back room, a place I fortified myself as a haven safe from unwelcome eyes and ears.

"Darth Maul," I say evenly, "report."

"Master," he begins, the familiar strains of his rough voice filling the room, "I have returned from my trip to Geonosis. It seems as though they knew of my visit because by the time I arrived they were in a frenzy to increase production on your battle station and to appease me. I only had to kill about a dozen people to express upon them the severity of their transgressions."

I mull over this in silence. That was easier than expected and has cleared up one problem. Apparently, the mere threat of the Sith's presence has whipped the Genosians into shape. That's good because I need Maul here.

"Good work," I say coolly, after a long moment of silence, "now, return to Coruscant immediately."

"Master, what about the Trade Federation's defiance?" he asks, head tilted in the shrouds of his ever present dark cloak.

My mouth curves into a dangerous smile. "I will handle that matter personally," I nearly purr. "Return to the core now. I need you here."

"Yes, Master," he replies.

The transmission ends.

#*#*#*#*#

It takes nearly two days for Darth Maul to return to Coruscant. Upon his arrival, I immediately return him to the work of discovering the Jedi's revelation in the Force. It frees up my time to finally deal with Nute Gunray.

Finding him was not difficult. He was, of course, in a Senatorial suite assigned to him by Interim Chancellor Valorum, living it up. It's sickening that Valorum would do such: Put the leader of the Republic's enemies in some of the best quarters on Coruscant, to allow that bug-eyed fucker to use the people's money in extravagant spending, which is exactly what he's doing. Nute Gunray is taking full advantage of Valorum's foolishness, something else that the Neimodian will pay for. Although it's unconscionable, Valorum's awe inspiring-idiocy is useful to me at the moment. It means I know exactly where Gunray is.

I'm bidding my time for now, waiting for the right moment to punish the leader of the Trade Federation.

And oh, how sweet it will be.

#*#*#*#*#

Padmé has returned to Coruscant.

Closing my eyes, I inhale, tuning out the delegate sitting in front of me, complaining about the coffee maker provided in the senatorial resting quarters.

I felt it as soon as she entered the stratosphere. It was a subtle shift in the Force, a sense of rightness descending upon me. My Empress has returned to my sphere of influence and I feel calmer because of it, like something that was restless within me has settled. I do not like the feeling and I refuse to examine it. What I do know is that Amidala will not be allowed to leave me in this manner ever again.

_Ever again_.

My jaw clenches as an unexpected wave of painful anticipation hits me. I want to see her. _Now._ I want to touch her, to caress her curvaceous form, to run my hands through her thick, silky hair. I want to fuck her.

But I will not go to her. She will come to me. I will be patient because Padmé will not seek me out now. Through the Force, I can sense that she does wish me to know that she has returned. For the time being, I will indulge her and wait to see her at the Peace Ball tomorrow. I will deal with her then, to remind her just to whom she belongs.

In the mean time, I have other matters to attend to; Nute Gunray. The moment is fast approaching wherein I will finally deal with him the way I've wished. Right now, he is in the Senatorial conference room, a place I will go once I have gotten rid of this stupid bastard sitting in front of me. His name is Senator Saryi and he is an expert at wasting my precious time. How I long to run my lightsaber through him and end his ridiculous tirade. Or better yet, I wish to boil a cup of coffee and pour the bubbling mess down his kriffing throat. Then, we'll see how much he cares about a fucking coffee maker.

I smirk slightly, the imagery putting me in a slightly better mood.

"Mr. Saryi," I interrupt smoothly, smiling at him charmingly, "perhaps this is a discussion best had at a later date?"

"Yes, of course, Senator Skywalker," he responds jovially, his large jowls at odd with his slim body, "I will return Monday, then, yes? Then we'll make it known to Senator Terri that we will not tolerate this indignity one moment longer!"

I almost kill him right then.

"Yes, of course," I respond with a nod, an understanding smile still in place even as I rise to escort him to the door.

After enduring a few more agonizing moments of his blubbering, I close the door firmly behind him and move to the back room. I grab my com and then make my way out, moving toward the senatorial conference rooms. I am so excited that I can barely stand it.

Pressing a button on my com, I continue to where Gunray is, walking steadily as I nod at delegates, lobbyists and senators that cross my path. For a moment it amazes me: I am literally on my way to do something that would give these bitches nightmares for the rest of their lives and they have no clue. They walk past me smiling and nodding at the devil in their midst. Yet am I not in the same boat? How many of these politicians are monsters in disguise? Perhaps less than before, thanks to Amidala, but I'm not foolish enough to believe they've been completely weeded out, especially now that I've monopolized so much of Amidala's time. It's been a while since she's exposed any dirty senators, probably because she's fixated on the dirtiest one of them all.

I smirk, allowing a light laugh to escape my lips at the thought. Perhaps Amidala has been doing her Karma-cide activities after all by being the focus of my heinous attentions. After this, though, she'll appreciate my less than savory ways in a manner she never has before.

#*#*#*#*#

Gunray has made himself at home and is tapping away on a monitor in the Queen's Royal conference room when I enter. The irony of the designation isn't lost on me and I take a quick moment to appreciate it. Named because of the luxurious suits attached to it like a queen's ladies in waiting, it is one of the most luxurious suites the senate has to offer and also affords the most privacy. Meetings can be conducted in its walls without any fear of eavesdropping. The room really does serve my plans perfectly. It's as though Gunray is trying to assist me in my ventures.

That's kind of him.

I close the door behind me, shutting out the noise from the hall. It's the middle of the day and the senate is bustling with visitors and delegates. That is purposeful, a statement to Gunray: No matter how many people are around, no one will be able to help him. He will know how Amidala felt, how her friends felt when he violated and killed them. He will die surrounded by people with no chance of rescue.

He _will not_ escape my wrath.

Gunray looks up as I enter, stopping his typing and standing.

"Senator Skywalker," he states, forehead furrowing, "I did not realize we had a meeting today."

I shake my head, a familiar sense of anticipation and excitement ripping through me with nearly euphoric glee. Gunray knows of my reputation in the senate and has swallowed the pure, sinless, paragon of virtue I have presented to the world. It will be a pleasure for me to show him how much of a fallacy it is.

"We don't," I respond cheerfully, "but I have business with you, Nute Gunray."

"And what business is that?" he asks cautiously, confusion heavy in his voice.

"Oh, nothing. Just the fact that you're a fraud," I reply kindly, turning to study a picture on one of the rich, damask red walls. "Does Chancellor Valorum know that you're not the true leader of the Trade Federation? I don't think he'd be happy that he's using so much of the Republic's resources on a fake."

Gunray begins sputtering, nose scrunching in anger. "Just _what_ are you talking about, Senator Skywalker?" he spits out. "Everyone knows that I am the leader of the Trade Federation!"

"Is that so?" I respond even softer, head tilted as I finally turn to look him in the eyes. "I thought Lord Vader was."

It's like all the air in the room is sucked out. Gunray stills so completely that it actually impresses me. Closing my eyes for a second, I inhale lightly, enjoying the scent of fear that suddenly permeates the air.

"What are you talking about?" Gunray whispers and his words are so low, so tremulous, that they are barely heard in the quiet of the room.

"I think you know what I'm talking about," I purr, a mild smile adorning my lips.

"Who the hell are you?" he demands, hands clenched, "how do you know that name!"

"I'm Senator Skywalker," I respond pleasantly, nodding politely at him, "and does it really matter how I know the name? All you should be concerned with is that Lord Vader is _very _displeased with you."

Gunray's green skin whitens and his bug eyes expand to a nearly impossible size as he stares at me. Then he pauses, taking me in from head to toe. I know what he sees: Shiny blond hair with nary a strand out of place, bright blue eyes, pristine senatorial robes and an easy smile. He doesn't see a threat. He doesn't even see a man; he sees a weakling, a moron, a_ pussy_. His next words confirm it. "No," the Neimoidian says, shaking his head, a nervous laugh escaping him, "you are a youngling! A baby! You cannot know who Lord Vader truly is! Even if you do, no matter who you think you are to him, you cannot reprimand me in this manner! You are just a senator of a sector of the galaxy that no one gives two kriffs about!"

"Am I?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, enjoying myself immensely. Gunray has worked himself into a frenzy which I find highly amusing. But however much I would love to continue playing with my food, now is truly not the time. I have a ball to prepare for, after all.

"Yes, you are! I am warning you, boy," Gunray speaks arrogantly, his confidence growing with each second, "you are dealing with forces that are beyond you. I will forgive your insolence this time, but I assure you, Lord Vader will hear of this!"

My amusement fades. Nute Gunray really has lost his fucking mind. To so disrespect someone who is clearly an agent of Lord Vader … I have allowed his foolishness to continue for too long.

Without preamble, I allow the mask the fall: The scales of kindness slip from my face and the facade that is Anakin Skywalker crumbles under the might of Darth Vader. Gold eyes regard him as I release dark energies, allowing it to flow through the room, wrapping him in my indomitable power. He has felt this before in a particularly colorful demonstration I made before the Trade Federation Council upon gaining power a year ago. I wanted them to understand that my assumption of control was nonnegotiable: It seems that Gunray has forgotten it.

I will remind him.

By the way Gunray's expression drops, he remembers it well.

"Wh- wh- who are you?" he squeaks, his terror is so high that he voice comes out in heaves.

I merely smirk at him, eyes glowing, waiting for him to accept what he knows to be true.

He stares at me as though his mind has broken. "L- Lord Vader," he whispers, his voice nearly faint, "h- h- how?"

I laugh lightly and it is full of elation. It's so good to be free. "Wonderful disguise, yes?" I ask, grinning at him, even as he cowers in a corner. "No one expects the young, naive, idealistic political asshole to be anything other than a young, naive, idealistic political asshole. Who would ever expect him to be the Lord of the Sith?" I confide silkily, eyes hard as I observe him, nearly intoxicated by Gunray's spiraling fear. "It makes it so very easy to observe people, to see whether one's followers are behaving themselves …" I murmur, head tilted, a soft smile in place as I study his increasingly quaking form,"… and you, Nute Gunray, have been a _very_ bad boy."

He says nothing, just continues to stare at me. Surely he's beginning to feel the full weight of his sins, but it's much too late for it to do him any good. Nine years too late. "It's an honor to finally meet you in person," I say conversationally, taking a seat against the wall. "Although I'm not sure you'd say the same."

"You've been busy, though," I continue, "you and the Trade Federation have been trying your best to fuck up my plans and I cannot allow that. Between your insubordination, coming here to talk to the Republic without my explicit instructions and trying to sabotage the plans for my battle station, I'm not quite sure what to do with you."

My eyes narrow on him and I allow some of my rage to slip through my control. Gunray flinches as it washes over him, making him gasp at its intensity. "You did not think that I would allow your perfidy to go unpunished, did you?" I ask him gently.

"I did not try to subvert your authority, my lord!" he begins desperately, eyes feverish."I was diligent in dealing with the Genosians on the plans for your battle station. I would never betray you, Lord Vader! It was the Council that wished to supplant you!"

"You did not quell it either and you could have," I respond, voice so cold it lowers the temperature in the room by several degree, "but you thought you were clever, you see. You allowed the Council to undermine my authority, hoping that they would succeed in usurping me, all the while deciding to be a pussy to save your own skin. If the Council did not succeed, you would simply blame it on Rute Gunray and retain your position as leader of the Trade Federation. If it did succeed, however, I would be ousted and you'd have control over my operation. It would be a win-win situation for you, yes?"

"No, Lord Vader! I did not—" his words are cut off abruptly and he claws at his throat as I raise my hand casually, using the Force to apply pressure there.

"I don't like being lied to," I whisper, eyes wide with malice, "so, don't."

I release him. Gunray's terror-filled eyes dart toward me and the door, clearly calculating his chances of escape. His cowardice is revolting.

"Are you seriously considering trying to make a run for the door?" I ask in real disbelief, shaking my head in disgust, "that's _so_ pathetic. And you're the leader of the Trade Federation? It speaks to the Republic's utter incompetence that they weren't able to destroy you before I arrived."

He stands there, trembling in the corner, so frightened that he does not speak and does not look at me. Truly Nute Gunray is pure shit.

"Stop being so afraid, Gunray," I say finally, after I've had my fill of his terror, "I'm not going to kill you for betraying me."

His body nearly sags with relief, the hope is so raw on his face that I almost regret what I'm going to do.

I'm lying.

"I'm going to kill you for something else entirely," I speak cheerfully, my delight plain and honest.

There is a nearly sickening dip in his emotions, as his joy plummets to despair again. It really is like being on an amusement park ride.

I've always liked amusement parks.

With a press of the com in my pocket, I summon my special guests into the room. They are men I've used in the past and will most likely use again. They are the lowest of the low, truly the filth of the universe. They are willing to do any and everything I ask of them, nothing is too foul, nothing is too wrong. They jumped at the chance to … _play _with such prominent prey. They're dressed nicely, blending in perfectly with visiting citizens. Indeed they don't look like the monsters they are. Seems I'm in good company.

"Lord Vader," Gunray begins pleading as they file into the room, "please, Lord Vader …"

"You should at least know why I'm going to kill you Gunray," I say, ignoring his begging. "You know Senator Amidala, yes?"

His eyes light up and even from where I stand, I can see a gleam of cunning spark in his eyes. "Yes, I know her! She's the bitch who's the senator for the Chommell sector. She's also the former Queen of Naboo. She is your rival, isn't she, milord?"

I pause and turn to him as though interested. He immediately perks at my actions. What a fool. Time to give him some rope.

"She is," I concede, staring at him.

"Then, I will destroy her for you, Lord Vader!" Nute Gunray cries, hands spread in supplication.

"You'll destroy her for me?" I repeat with a raised eyebrow, amber eyes intent on him.

"Yes!" he shrieks, "I will make what happened on Naboo look like a picnic compared to what I will do to her now. I will do it for you, Lord Vader!"

"Is that so?" I respond softly, even as my rage thickens so much it's hard to speak. How dare he even think of touching her hallowed skin, that he should reach above himself to even _think_ about her. His wishe to defile my Empress threatens to pull me further into the Dark Side than I've _ever_ been. All I see is this being's death, his utter and complete destruction.

I want him to _suffer_. He will endure unspeakable agony before I allow him to die, but it will not end there. I will make sure that not even his spirit finds peace with the Force in the afterlife.

"Yes!" he repeats, his stance beginning to relax with the belief that he has saved his skin. "I will destroy the threat to your plans and I will do it as soon as possible to prove my loyalty to you."

I pretend to mull it over. "That would be great," I say slowly, "if not for one really small fact."

The Neimoidian's body stills, and he swallows largely, "What is that, my Lord?"

"Amidala is mine," I respond quietly, voice barely heard as I impress upon him the total and complete failure of his efforts to appease me, giving him a moment to realize just how deeply in shit he's buried himself. "_She is mine_. My woman, my Empress, she will be the mother of my children, co-ruler of this Galaxy."

As I watch Gunray, I can see horrifying comprehension light his eyes. Finally, he understands the exact reason why he's here, in this place, at this time.

I can nearly _see_ him mind break.

"Lord Vader," he begins, his voice tinged with insane panic, "Lord Vader!"

"You caused my Empress great distress," I whisper over his growing screams, my rage uncontrollable, "you hurt her and now you wish to hurt her again. You scarred her when you and your animals killed her maid servants in front of her. You humiliated her in front of her peers, you killed her people and have haunted her nightmares for years, but no more. Now, you will die. You will pay for everything you have done to her … and more."

I look back at my minions. They've begun to undress, looking at Gunray lasciviously, as though he's the prettiest woman in the world. Gunray's soul nearly dies in his eyes as he watches them reveal themselves, their mouths hanging open in anticipation as they run their eyes over his body. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what I've planned for Gunray.

He's going to die the same way Padmé's handmaidens did.

And I have a front row seat for every second of it.

"Please! Lord Vader! I did not know!" The Neimoidian sobs, his body trembling violently, his deranged terror screaming into the Force, fueling the glorious waves of the Dark Side with such ferocity that I wouldn't be surprised if every Force sensitive in the galaxy can feel it. "Please! I will fix this for you! I will do whatever you want! _Please_."

I hold up a hand and my amorous minions pause, clearly being kept from ravaging their prey by their fear of me only.

"You will do whatever I want?" I ask slowly, thoughtfully, gazing down at Gunray's quivering, pathetic form.

"Yes, milord!" he blubbers eagerly, hope shining in his buggy eyes, "I will do anything you want! Just say it and it will be done."

I study the Neimoidian, at the quivering heap of flesh in front of me.

His fear is palpable.

I can taste his terror on my tongue.

And I can't help but wonder: Is this how Padmé's handmaidens felt? Is this how _Padmé _felt? The thought hardens my granite heart to steel.

I smile gently at him. "Very well," I say graciously, quietly. Moving to close to him, I slowly kneel down beside him.

"What I want," I begin softly, staring into his large eyes, "is for you to suffer the way Amidala's handmaidens did. I want to see them do to you all the things that you did, that you allowed lackeys to do," I murmur, and as I talk, his eyes widen with nearly manic horror. "Just to be honest," I finish cordially, kindly, "I just want you to suffer horrifically."

I move away as he grabs at me desperately, his screams of repentance turning into a garble of nonsensical begging and pleading.

It's pure music to my ears.

"Enjoy him, boys," I purr. The men fall on Gunray and began ripping his clothes viciously. In seconds Gunray's clothes are gone and they are plugging every possible surface of his body, muffling his screams of mercy. I grimace as I watch. Force, but this will be a horrible death for Gunray and for the first time today, it does not make me smile. If this is what Amidala saw done to people she cared about, if this is what she fills her nightmares, then it's a wonder her mind is intact.

As I watch my minions maliciously and gleefully defile Gunray, a new, deep respect respect for Amidala grows within me. How strong my Empress is in heart, mind and soul. She is worthy to rule. She is so worthy. And despite the utterly distasteful and disgusting act happening before me, my heart is filled with a strange glee that I have not felt since destroying Sidious. But this time, it feels _righteous_ because what I'm doing is _right._

A mad animal is finally being put down.

For vengeance.

For justice.

For Padmé.

#*#*#*#*#

After making _special_ arrangements for what's left of Gunray, I retreat to my apartment and settle into a chair on the veranda overlooking the city.

It is dark, but for once, it brings me no comfort. I feel … unsettled. Something is happening in the Force and it even more chaotic and dangerous than it was mere days ago. Much more. Things are changing alarmingly quick; the agents of destiny are moving behind the scenes and the final confrontation between the Sith and the Jedi is coming, I can feel it.

Yet I don't understand my reaction to this knowledge. I have not felt so anxious in a long time and I am not happy about it. It's Amidala's fault. Meeting her and being burdened with this all-consuming need to own her has changed _everything_. My path used to be clear, but now there are so many choices laid before me, all of them revealed to me by the Force.

I am at war with myself.

What to do? What do I want for myself, for my future? Is destroying the Jedi worth losing Amidala? The Force has shown me that this seems to be the only path. But how do I live, knowing that those who betrayed me, who left me to rot on that Force-forsaken dust bowl, remain?

Can I choose Amidala over myself? I cannot remember ever caring about anyone enough to even consider such a concept. That I'm doing so now hits _hard._ Exactly how much do I care for Amidala? Possessing her, owning her in every way, has been important to me since the moment I decided that she would be mine. But this isn't supposed to be a reciprocal attraction, a mutual ownership. It's supposed to be completely one-sided; she belongs to me and caters to my whims alone. Then why does the thought of her devastation affect me so deeply?

I do not like it.

_I do not like it_.

… What do I do?

An alert from my security system announces that there is someone at the door and I am grateful. My mind needs rest from the turmoil, from the discord. Perhaps my visitor will provide me with adequate entertainment, especially if it is a random socialite seeking a fuck. Such would be welcome; I haven't killed anyone in what feels like _forever_.

Walking to the door, I open it, pausing as my eyes run over the slender, voluptuous woman standing in front of me.

"Sloan," I say in greeting, finally meeting her eyes.

"Anakin," she responds warmly with a smile, "it's been a long time."

Indeed.

Stepping back, I allow her to pass.

I close the door.

End of chapter 30: **Please review! I'm always jittery when updating after long periods of time. Thank you!**

**Chapter 31: The Peace Ball****:** Moves and counter moves.

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year guys! I hope you all are well. The time it took me to update was ridiculous of course, and while I apologize for it, it couldn't be helped. Between being burned out with this fic—I've been writing the Sith & the Senator for upwards of_ two years_—RL, the holidays, and a depressing lack of free time, writing this fic wasn't possible. But I finally did and it's here now. I hope you guys like it.

On that note, I cannot express to you guys enough how important it is to review, even if it looks like the fic hasn't been updated in a while. I'm not going to lie; while I do appreciate the clicks, my eyes skim over the emails notifying me that someone has alerted or favorited, especially when I see no accompanying review—and yes, every time you guys favorite, alert, or review, this site sends me a rather prompt message telling me so—but when I _do_ see a review, it reminds me that I really need to update, to keep the promise I made to you guys to finish this fic. It also is a huge boost to my morale.

Writing this fic is time-consuming and hard because I have the attention span of a flea when it comes to producing work. I consider it a job well-done if I can simply get a paragraph done in a day. I look at my screen, completely satisfied with that one paragraph and shut it down! I had to seriously reign myself in to write this chapter which is why you have a nearly novel-sized author's message full of my inane ramblings. I lost apart of myself in this chapter, something I couldn't get back: I've read and edited it so many times that I cannot be held responsible for my actions if I have to read it even one more (insert expletive) time!

*Cough*

That being said … please check out my blog. There are fanfiction recommendations for a couple different fandoms there and fanfic works by yours truly that are nowhere else, mainly my Captain America fic which should be ready soon … which is what I said months ago. I'll send a tweet when it's posted.

There was something else … oh, yeah! My betas: You guys are incredible. You're always ready to beta my work even when it's months between chapters. Thank you guys soo much. I realized only recently that I've been remiss in expressing my gratitude. Embarrassing confession: I'm working on so many things and have so many betas that I sometimes forget who is who. That's why I didn't write any names and perhaps why you didn't receive this chapter if you are, in fact, a beta for TS&TS. If I forgot you, I'm so sorry! Charge it to my head, and not my heart. I can barely remember my own name, so, please forgive me and shoot me a PM if you wish to continue to help me with my fics.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter. You guys are ama-za-zing and I know each and every one of you. If you ever want to talk to me, please PM and I'll respond when I have time.

Thank you!

God bless.


	31. The Peace Ball

**Hello, my wonderful readers. There's an extremely important author's note at the end of the chapter. Please take the time to read it. Also, to see how the ballroom looks as well as Padmé and Sloan's dresses and Anakin's outfit please see the chapter on my blog. You can find the link to my blog on my profile. **

**Chapter 31: The Peace Ball**

**_P_**_admé _**_A_**_midala_

I don't want to go to this ball.

The longer I stare at myself in the mirror, the truer it becomes.

From my hair, immaculately swept up behind my head in delicate curls, to the bare amount of makeup that I carefully applied only moments ago, to the stunning dress that hugs my form, I can admit, without pride, that I am beautiful tonight.

I still don't want to go to this ball.

It took a ridiculously long time to decide what to wear; go with the traditional ball gown or something that would wow? It's a battle I've never fought before and one that threatened to derail me. For prior events such as this, I simply picked one of the many dresses in my closet that I hadn't worn, all courtesy of Sola. Upon being appointed senator, my sister declared it her mission to make sure I was prepared for whatever I would face on Coruscant, including the inevitable formal functions I would be required to attend. This essentially translated into her dragging me to every high-end clothing shop in Theed. It made for a very exhausting and frustrating day and at the time, I loathed it. But now, I am more than grateful for my sister's foresight as I have a good collection of evening dresses that can be worn, all of which should blow Anakin's mind.

But what? The sexy black dress, the pristine white gown, or the fiery red gown?

I finally decide on a simple but extremely elegant pearl white evening gown that my sister insisted screamed Nubian royalty. It does and as I examine myself in the mirror, I'm glad I chose it. The dress is comfortable and molds to my curves like a second skin. It's modest, which is what I prefer, but has a cut out on the side for just the right hint of sexiness. Yes, I look nice.

But I_ still _don't want to go to this ball and it's all Anakin's fault.

After returning to Coruscant from Tatooine, I refrained from contacting Anakin, still upset about our last run in. I, quite simply, was not ready to face the inevitable questions about my whereabouts. After the unexpected trouble I had on the return trip, I really needed time to recoup from my journey without my refusal to accede to Anakin's questions leading to yet another confrontation.

Dropping off Quarsh Panaka was an unforeseen exercise in patience as his concern for me and 'what I'd gotten myself into' nearly gained me a companion home. Only the promise that I would call him at the first sign of trouble did he agree to return to Naboo. If that wasn't enough, it took more than a little skill to convince Shmi Skywalker to comply with my plans for her reunion with Anakin. She wanted to see Anakin immediately, but I managed to persuade her to wait on Naboo as a guest of my parents until I eased Anakin into the knowledge of their imminent reunion. After enduring that stringent persuasive session, which took a whopping _five hours_, I could see where Anakin obtained his enduring stubbornness from.

I frown.

Just the thought of my significant other causes a tick of annoyance to develop in my temple. Everything is just so _difficult_ with Anakin. For all that he makes me feel more alive than anyone else, he also makes me more wary than anyone I've ever encountered and I _don't like it_. He's my boyfriend, the man I'm in love with and yet I feel so _uncertain_ around him. I don't want it to be like this forever. I want it to be easy and I can't help but wonder if it'll ever be. I don't want to battle him constantly, I want to confide in him, to be able to trust him. It's a precarious dream, one made even more so by my actions. I have no idea how he is going to react to my bringing Shmi back into his life. Is he going to be glad? Is he going to be angry? Shocked? What? It's a gamble and it's wrecking havoc on my mind.

More than once, I've questioned the wisdom of my actions. Finding Anakin's mother seemed like a fabulous idea a week ago, but now? After learning even more about my Sith boyfriend? I'm not so sure. But it's much too late to undo it now. I have to live with what I've done.

We both will.

With a sigh, I force the Skywalkers out of my mind with sheer force of will. I swear, they will be the death of me if I am not careful. It's why I cannot falter now, why I must remain steadfast. However Anakin reacts, and whatever my misgivings, I was spurred onto this path because I believed that I was doing the right thing. I can only hope that everything works out for the best.

Nodding resolutely, I focus my mind on finishing my preparations for the ball. Moving to the closet, I begin to rummage around for my lace stilettos. Like most things, they're in the way until I need them. Now, they seem to have disappeared into the disaster that is my normally well-organized closet. For a moment, I take a second to survey the clothing calamity, a grimace stretching my features. Looking for a dress really hit my room hard. I definitely do not look forward to cleaning this later.

After finally locating them, I move to the living room and sit on the couch, trying to shake the melancholy threatening to descend. To say I'm apprehensive about the ball would be an understatement. Not only am I not going with the man I'm in a relationship with, but he's going to have a _date_ and therein lies the problem. I look wonderful, should feel wonderful too, only I don't and it's all because Anakin's going with a woman that's _not me_.

My teeth clenches at the very thought, even as I slip into my heels.

It would be unfair to be angry with Anakin for going with another woman when it was I who chose to go with Obi-Wan. He was so angry over my decision and we didn't even get to reconcile about it although I tried to apologize to him before going to Tatooine. But I shouldn't have _had_ to apologize.

Why can't he understand that I'm going to the ball with Obi-Wan to _protect_ him? Even with his complicated history with Obi-Wan, why can't he see that I did it to throw suspicion off of us? Does he have any idea how bad it would be if the Jedi found out about us now? Obi-Wan wanted Anakin on the list for potential Sith and I persuaded him to leave Anakin off of it, that it would be hasty to put Senator Skywalker on it because Obi-Wan had no evidence that the newly appointed politician could be a Sith Lord. How would it look if I showed up with him at a formal function as his date three weeks later? Why the hell is Anakin so kriffing _reckless_? We have to play it safe and that's what I'm doing. I am protecting both of us and I refuse to feel guilty about that.

Honestly, I wouldn't have a problem with him going with someone else if I didn't know how angry he is, how vindictive and hot-headed he can be. The way he said 'friend' when referring to that woman inspires little confidence. What the kriff does that mean exactly? Anakin had better not even _consider_ putting any of his body parts near another woman, not if he wishes for them to remain intact.

It angers and worries me more than I care to admit.

Anakin and I never explicitly talked about being exclusive. It was just assumed with all the threats, scheming and drama that we were an item. He knows that he's the only man I've been with, has been able to bear to be with since Naboo. He wouldn't jeopardize that in his anger. I know it.

Perhaps if I repeat it enough, I'll actually believe it.

If that's not enough, some startling and devastating rumors are circulating within the confines of the Senate. There are murmurings that Nute Gunray is missing.

It creates mixed feelings within me. While I despise Nute Gunray with every fiber of my being and would happily wipe even the memory of him from this Galaxy, I know what this can mean for the Republic. For the leader of the Trade Federation to disappear when he's the guest of the Interim Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic means a war with even more bloodshed, more loss, more pain … and no end in sight. Although my heart soars at the thought that Nute Gunray has finally gotten what he deserves, another, larger part of me fears for the Galaxy. Gunray's disappearance can render consequences that will devastate the people of this galaxy and that cannot be borne. They've been through enough.

For their sake, I hope Gunray is found alive and well. By no means does that mean I forgive him for the atrocities he has committed. To see him suffer for what he's done to my people, to my beloved friends, is ever on my mind. But I am a patient woman. My chance to reap vengeance on Nute Gunray will come and it will surpass all of my desires, all of my hopes. I will delight in that day, rejoice in it. But for now, I hope that these rumors are groundless.

If it's not, then the shit storm that's coming is beyond reckoning.

I look up as an alert sounds at the door. Obi-Wan's here.

Standing, I grab my purse and make for the door. Opening it, I survey my friend. Obi-Wan is dressed in formal white Jedi robes and they look good on him. It's a welcome change from the brown and cream Jedi robes. For a while, I was sure that they were the only garments that any of the Jedi possessed.

Obi-Wan's eyes widen when he sees me.

"Wow, Padmé," he says, his mouth comically hanging open, "you look …" He swallows and continue to stare.

At the look of barely concealed awe on his face, I grin, allowing some of my tension and anxiety to flow out of me. In that moment I decide that I am going to deal with the night as it comes. I'm going to trust that Anakin won't take his anger too far and I'm going to have fun with my best friend. Hopefully, this ball won't be a total disaster and will be an opportunity to mingle and to smooth things over with Anakin, which I will do it if I can.

"Looking good yourself, Kenobi," I reply teasingly, as he finally realizes he's staring and shuts his mouth with pop.

Red creeps up his neck. "Thank you," he says shyly, tugging on his collar, "shall we go, milady?"

He holds out an arm.

I nod and take it. "Yes, good sir, we shall."

#*#*#*#*#

We go to the ball in style.

I reserved a luxury speeder to drop us off there and pick us up later. It's a nice ride to the venue, the Coruscanti Royale Grand Ballroom, and by the time we arrive, it's already overflowing with reporters and paparazzi. I grimace at the spectacle although I'm not terribly surprised that they came in such force. This ball is Interim Chancellor Valorum's ploy to get the senators to play nice with the Trade Federation's leaders, something that has alienated him from a great deal of his constituents. Now, with rumors of Gunray's disappearance, the anticipation for a spectacle is high and the media is practically salivating for a good story, a good scandal. _Fools._ Don't they realize how serious this situation is?

As I peer out the window and watch one reporter talk excitedly into her mic, her face aglow as she faces her camera crew, I have to conclude that they don't. Already fed up with their idiocy, I turn to Obi-Wan as the transport stills. We are in the procession line to be let out onto the red carpet to be paraded like prize animals for the media before proceeding into the Senate's ballroom. The wait is not a bad thing. It gives me a chance to ask a few questions that have been weighing heavily on me since this morning.

"Obi-Wan, is it true that Nute Gunray is missing?" I ask without preamble, staring intently at him. I'm on the far right of the speeder as is custom and he's sitting on the left, ready to get out of the transport first and help me out. I examine the privacy window separating us from the driver for a moment, careful to ensure that our conversation remains just that; private.

Obi-Wan hesitates and I frown. Surely this isn't some great Jedi secret? Surely he can tell me this?

His eyes flicker and finally he nods. "Yes," he says grimly, mouth tight, "Nute Gunray is missing. The Jedi were informed of it late last night and we have been attempting to ascertain his location since then. We have ruled out the option that he left the planet willingly. There has been no evidence of that. Padmé … this is really bad," Obi-Wan admits softly and the disquiet on his face is more than a little alarming.

"The Trade Federation?" I ask quietly, almost dreading to ask.

"… Already knows, is thoroughly outraged and has promised retaliation in kind if Nute Gunray isn't found by the night's end," Obi-Wan finishes, shaking his head in dismay.

"They actually said that!" I reply in surprise, eyes wide.

"Yes," Obi-Wan supplies sardonically, "they actually said that. You're not that the only one who's surprised … and insulted. More than a few politicians are bristling at their gall."

"Do you suspect foul play?" I inquire after a moment, my mind racing.

"We have no solid evidence, but that seems to be the case," Obi-Wan responds carefully, "the last time Gunray was actually sighted was by the guards assigned to him by Valorum. Apparently Gunray dismissed them and holed himself up in one of the public senatorial conference rooms, the Queen Suite, that was set aside for his use. We tried to review the camera feed to that room, but Padmé …" Obi-Wan shakes his head in distress as he runs a hand over his mouth, "… they were tampered with. It was fed a continuous loop of a clear hallway, so we have no idea if anyone went into his room. We attempted to question some of the visiting citizens and politicians there, but that yielded few results. There were so many people there that it would be nearly impossible to accuse anyone. Doing so to the wrong person is the last thing the Jedi need."

I nod in understanding. The Jedi have been under the blaster lately for pulling back their troops from the forefront. I have not yet asked Obi-Wan why, but I know it must be important for the Order to do something so drastic. Accusing a popular senator or politician would only add fuel to the media's fire of tearing the Jedi to shreds. It truly is the last thing they need. Now, with the advent of Nute Gunray's disappearance, the pressure on the Jedi for explanations and results has increased a hundredfold. Truly, this fiasco couldn't have happened at the worst time for the Order.

"In light of the cameras being tampered with," Obi-Wan continues, "it's a given that foul play has occurred. We can only hope that Gunray is still alive and that conditions for his return will be given."

"I thought the Jedi didn't negotiate with terrorists," I respond, brows furrowed.

"We don't, but Interim Chancellor Valorum does. We don't have much of a choice at this point," Obi-Wan answers grimly.

"And if he's not alive?" I speak quietly, daring to ask the question that we're both dreading.

"Then this war will never end," Obi-Wan answers solemnly, eyes moving to peer out the window.

I grimace, falling silent as well. He's right, if something has happened to Nute Gunray, then's no telling when this war will end. I know that Gunray has followers that are extremely loyal to him and yet others that would gladly see him gone. But for the enemy to eliminate him … that will bind the Trade Federation together against us in a way that nothing else would. They will put aside their differences and unite to destroy their common foe, an enemy that was so bold as to invite their leader to peace talks and then allow him to be killed on their watch.

The Trade Federation is not the only ones who will look upon this incidence with disgust and disdain. Gunray's disappearance crosses basic laws of decorum and protocol amongst visiting powers. Despite how much of a monster Gunray is, this won't be overlooked, even by those who despise him. Dear Force, this is _not good_.

I glance at Obi-Wan and for the first time, I see the strains of stress on his face. There are lines there that were not there before, even being as prominent a figure in the war as the great Negotiator. Now, it seems as though the troubles plaguing him having finally began to take its toll. They're crushing him.

My heart softens even as my will solidifies. The situation with Nute Gunray has reached critical mass, but I cannot allow that to destroy my best friend. Reaching over, I grab his hand. He starts, startled by my actions. I smile at him with warm eyes, hoping that he will feel my sincerity, that my support will help ease some of his burdens.

"Obi-Wan, it'll be alright," I tell him softly, focus intent on him, "whatever it is, we'll face it together."

He stares at me for a long moment before a slow smile stretches his face. "Thank you, Padmé," he replies, his eyes gleaming with gratitude.

I nod, squeezing his hand again before releasing. "What are best friends for?"

Something flashes in his eyes. His smile falters and then stretches his mouth again, but this time it's much less genuine than the one before.

I frown confused. "Obi-Wan," I begin, only for the thought to scatter as our transport finally pulls in front of the red carpet leading to the ballroom.

Sighing, I take a deep breath. "Are you ready for this Obi-Wan?" I ask, as the lights and cameras from the surrounding media began dousing our transport, a phenomena that would have blinded us if not for the tinted windows.

"Absolutely not," he replies ruefully, preparing to open the door.

I stop him.

"Obi-Wan," I say seriously, taking his hand once more, "I know that the galaxy is about to go to shit, but tonight, we're going to have fun, okay? We're going to laugh and dance and ignore the fact that we're being forced to do so with our enemies. We're going to go in there and pretend that they're people we can actually bear to eat around without wanting to throw up."

He laughs, honest-to-goodness laughs. "Very well, I'll try," he responds, amusement heavy in his voice and eyes.

"You either do or you don't, Obi-Wan," I chide him gently, teasing him, "trying is only the journey, not the destination."

He stills and his smile fades as he stares at me.

I return the gaze, brows furrowing, once again confused by his actions.

"Someone very wise said something very similar to me not too long ago," he murmurs in response to my unspoken question.

I nod smugly. "Must be a _very_ wise person," I reply loftily, putting my nose in the air and affecting a high born accent.

He chuckles, some of the tension easing out of his face. "Yes, he is a very wise person indeed," Obi-Wan says, a small smile lingering on his face. "You know what? I think I'm ready now."

I grin at him. "Me too! Let's go have a good time!"

He shoots me a look of fond exasperation before promptly opening the transporter door.

If the lights of the media were bad while we were inside the transport, they are three times worse now that we no longer have the protection of the tint. It's so bright and illuminating that I would not be surprised if it could be seen from space. If not for Obi-Wan's guiding hand, I'm not sure I would have been able to see my way to the end.

Obi-Wan and I stop halfway down the long strip and allow the media to take photos. I've never liked being on display for the denizens of the galaxy, but I know it's part of the game. So, I play it. I stare coolly at those around me as the cameras flash endlessly around us.

They are wowed by my dress, I can tell. It is simple and stands out as elegant and regal in a sea of flashy, funky and nearly non-existent scraps of fabric that pass off as dresses. That and the fact that I'm here with Obi-Wan, the one person the Galaxy thinks I can stand, will probably only fuel the fire that I'm an ice queen. It's something that the media loves and has built up as much as they can so they can rabidly tear it down with the first whiff that I've found someone. Force only knows how they'll react when Anakin and I finally reveal our relationship: the Man Whore with the Ice Queen.

Coruscant will probably implode.

I shudder at the thought as we finally make it inside the ballroom. We pause when we breach the entrance and I am impressed despite myself. The ballroom is absolutely _gorgeous_. A study in elegance, it has whitewashed stone walls that blend perfectly with the floor of tiled black and white marble. The second floor opens to the ballroom, boasting a high ceiling and tall stone columns. It really is quite a magnificent venue. Just thinking about the amount of money Valorum had to spend to secure such a place in so short a time makes a chill run down my spine. Exactly how much of the Republic's resources is the Interim Chancellor going to use to toady to the likes of the Trade Federation? If he thinks kissing ass is going to end the war, then he's terribly mistaken. It's just another reason why he is vastly unsuitable to lead the Republic. After this fiasco, if all goes well, then that's not something Valorum is going to have to deal with ever again.

I return my focus to the ballroom.

There's already a good amount of people mingling when we are announced and many heads turn in our direction as we make our way down the grand staircase. I have to admit, it feels like something out of a fairy tale, only the man holding my arm isn't exactly my prince. But I suppose, neither is Anakin, at least, not in the traditional sense. Though he is brave—nearly to the point of foolishness—intelligent, persistent and a natural leader; kind, considerate and heroic he is not.

A quick glance around the ballroom, as we continue to descend, tells me that my tarnished prince isn't here. I release a shallow breath, unable to help but be disappointed. Up until this moment, I did not realize how much I've missed him. I haven't seen him, verbally sparred with him, made love with him in a_ whole week_ and it feels like _forever_. As much as I hate to admit it, I want to see and I can't help but wonder if he's missed me too.

Shaking my head, I send Obi-Wan a reassuring smile at his look of concern. I forgot how in tune he is with my feelings and it's not hard to discern that I'm distracted about something. Unfortunately, there's nothing to done about it until Anakin arrives.

Soon, Obi-Wan and I are moving around the room, mingling with various denizens and tasting the delicacies prepared. As we do, I observe Obi-Wan. On Tatooine I learned of his complex relationship with Anakin, a truly tragic story if ever there was one. Does Obi-Wan still think about it? Does it haunt his dreams? Furthermore, is it possible for them to ever reconnect and become friends again? I think it may be in Obi-Wan's case. Why else would he so willingly omit Anakin from the list of potential Sith Lords when he knows that Anakin is Force sensitive? Although there is no hard evidence, just the fact that he and Master Qui-Gon Jinn know for sure that the Arkanis sector's new senator is capable of using the Force would be more than enough to put Anakin on the list. Anakin's appearance in conjunction with a new Sith Lord's is way too much of a coincidence for a Jedi Master like Obi-Wan to ignore.

So _why_?

It puzzles me. I glance up at Obi-Wan who is speaking animatedly with Senator Riyo Chuchi of Pantora. Is he, perhaps, attempting to protect Anakin after failing him so many years ago? It would be so like Obi-Wan to do that. But that would mean jeopardizing his standing with the Jedi, not to mention putting the whole Order itself in danger. Would Obi-Wan do that for one man? A man who attacked him and his master? A man who is the mortal enemy of the Jedi? A man who no longer resembles the young boy that he knew?

I don't know.

What I do know is that Obi-Wam recognized Anakin, he _must_ have. There's no way a person as intelligent as Obi-Wan _couldn't _have made the connection that Anakin, the Tatooine slave boy and Anakin of the Senate are the same person. How else would he have found information on the new senator so quickly without a name or a picture? The Force led him to Anakin, Obi-Wan said. Perhaps that's not entirely untrue.

I'll pay special attention to their interaction tonight. That'll tell me if my ponderings have any grain of truth or if they're just a bunch of baseless assumptions. It's unfair, but I hope that Obi-Wan still feels something for Anakin. Obi-Wan is my best friend and Anakin is my lover but by virtue of their beliefs, they are mortal enemies. The last thing I want is for them to hurt one another. Even one of them being willing to negotiate with the other eases my mind considerably.

The thought of avoiding conflict in my personal life is truly a comfort, because it seems as though doing so here is going to be nigh impossible. The atmosphere is incredibly tense. Interim Chancellor Valorum stands near the Trade Federation delegates who are cloistered in a corner at the far side of the ballroom, well away from the Republic's dignitaries, but his presence is doing little to ease the strain on the ambience of the ballroom.

Nute Gunray's absence blares like a trumpet. His disappearance has clearly drawn lines in the sand; the politicians of the Republic are uninterested in taking responsibility for the situation while the delegates of the Trade Federation are uninterested in anything but his return and a very generous gift of compensation. If this ball had any chance of working, it is now gone with Gunray's vanishment. At this point, this whole fiasco is a useless, painful endeavor that does no more than throw a large number of enemies into one room together.

Hopefully, we can get through the night without a blaster being pulled out.

"Presenting Senator Anakin Skywalker of the Arkanis sector and Miss Sloan Rann!"

Everyone's gaze shoots to the top of the grand staircase. Mine go too and my eyes widen at what I see.

Anakin looks _amazing_. He is dressed in a dark grey tunic with red paisley highlights, in a traditionally Jedi-esque style. His blonde hair hangs perfectly around an even more incredible looking face. His eyes glow a brilliant azure against the colors of his outfit. He is so incredibly magnificent that my breath catches in my throat.

But someone else captures and holds everyone's attention: Miss Sloan Rann, Anakin's date.

Suddenly, I am aware of an uncomfortable burning in my throat, behind my eyes. So, this is Anakin's _friend_.

Skin the color of rich mocha, her black hair is worn long, without curls, pins, or adornments and lays like shimmering water well past her shoulders. Her dress is_ gorgeous_. It's long and white with black and sparkled cross diagonal white loops moving in horizontal lines from the top to the bottom. It molds to generous curves and splays gracefully at the bottom

She is, quite simply, _beautiful_.

They stand tall and regal against the shinning backlight, the dark-skinned bombshell contrasting, yet still complimenting Anakin in a way that makes one stare.

I swallow as they remain there a moment, soaking in the gazes of everyone before beginning to descend. Her hand is tucked in Anakin's arm as they take their time down the stairs. For a moment, I lock gazes with Anakin. The azure orbs flicker before leaving me. My nose flares in annoyance and the slightest bit of hurt at his action. It's silly to be upset about it, because this was what I was expecting, but it still doesn't feel good. It feels _awful_.

I glance at Obi-Wan. He is staring at the descending pair, no, he's staring at _Anakin_, with a strange look in his eyes. Obi-Wan's expression gives away nothing as Anakin and Sloan Rann finally stop at the bottom, right in front of us.

"Senator Skywalker, Miss Rann," Obi-Wan speaks first, quietly, eyes never leaving the younger man.

"Master Kenobi," Anakin replies evenly. Their gazes meet and stay. I frown slightly, the expression fleeting. Whatever is happening between them, now is_ not_ the time.

"Senator Skywalker, will you please introduce us to your companion," I interrupt their staring match, speaking a bit louder than necessary. I refuse to call her his date.

Anakin turns his intense gaze from Obi-Wan to me. My heart beat begins to pick up as I feel his eyes move intimately over my form. Though I hate myself for it, I can't help but wonder if he approves.

"Senator Amidala, Master Kenobi, this is my date, Sloan Rann," he says smoothly, gracing her with a gorgeous smile. "Sloan, this is Senator Amdiala, a colleague and, Master Kenboi" Anakin hesitates and bitterness flashes over his face for only the smallest fraction of a section, noticeable only if one knew him, "one of the many Jedi who serve to protect us."

Obi-Wan stills abruptly before smiling at her and inclining his head. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rann. I hope you enjoy your time here tonight."

Her lips twist into a knowing grin. "I certainly plan to, Master Obi-Wan," she says cheerfully, turning to wink at Anakin.

I feel a chill go down my spine even as my jaw clenches. What the _fuck_ does that mean?

She turns to me. "Senator Amidala? I've heard so much about you. I'm a huge fan of your work."

One of my eyebrows lift without consent.

"A fan? I wasn't aware that my actions were those that encouraged admirers," I reply cooly, cognizant of Obi-Wan looking at me in questioning alarm.

A faint smile stretches her lips. "When a person does something that makes the bad guys pay, it's always something to be admired," she responds, giving Obi-Wan an appreciative nod. "There are not many who have the courage to do so. Those that do deserve recognition, whether they do it for those reasons or not."

The slightest of frowns crosses my face. I can't tell if she's sincere or not, but there's little I can do but respond appreciatively. "In that case, thank you," I reply, barely inclining my head.

"You're welcome," she says, dark brown eyes bright.

Before I can open my mouth to say anything else, Anakin speaks.

"I think we've taken up enough of your time," he says smoothly, eyes touching me again before turning his gaze toward the rest of the room. "It was nice talking to you, Master Kenobi, Senator Amidala."

Obi-Wan and I nod as they move past us into and disappear into the many bodies littering the room.

Dismissing my ire at his abrupt parting, I take a moment to study Obi-Wan. There's no doubt in my mind that they recognized one another. The look that they gave one another spoke volumes. Anakin's eyes as they looked upon his old friend were completely blank, in a way that I'd never before seen. Obi-Wan was even less transparent, his voice and face that of the Negotiator, hiding his feelings behind a wall of control.

I need to speak with Anakin. Asking him about the moment should be harmless enough without raising his suspicions that I know any thing more than what was seen. I thoroughly ignore the part of me that craves to be with him, that simply wants to touch him again after being without him for such a long time. No, this is business and I will continue to tell myself that until I can feel him up to my heart's content.

For now, I will watch and wait for my chance to speak with him in some semblance of privacy.

But it doesn't come.

For the next hour Anakin doesn't leave Sloan's side. The mingle together and walk around the ballroom together, all the while managing to stay well away from Obi-Wan and me. Now, they're _dancing_ together. It's a slower piece, one that Anakin appears to be enjoying _very_ much. He's holding her close, hand just a smidgen away from being too low on her back. Her dress spreads wildly and gracefully as he moves her around the floor. Anakin himself is a elegant flash of gray and red every time the mass of bodies on the floor allows me to see him. He doesn't look around, doesn't try to watch me. He's totally focused on her and I'm not the only one to notice.

Already I've heard several comments regarding them; speculation about whether they're together, murmurings that Anakin's dates only get better, assertions that they look good together.

The latter is not wrong.

Finally, unable to take anymore, I turn to Obi-Wan.

"I think I'll go to the 'fresher and spruce up," I tell him, a brittle smile in place. He frowns, already cognizant of my poor mood.

"Padmé, is everything okay?" he asks in concern.

My smile falters. Kriff no, it's not okay. Things couldn't be further from okay.

"Nothing a trip to the 'fresher won't fix," I reply smoothly. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, I take off, leaving his side for the first time that night.

#*#*#*#*#

Walking quickly into the refresher at the back of the ballroom, I keep myself together from sheer strength of will.

Fuck Anakin Skywalker. _Fuck him_.

A quick push of all the stall doors reveals that I am alone. Chest heaving, I go to the mirror, staring at my reflection. Suddenly, my hair no longer looks so pretty, the dark tint of it no longer so brilliant. And my dress … Force, why did I go with this _dress_? It looks so incredibly plain now next to the sexy style and cut of Sloan's dress.

My frustration continues to grow at I stare into the mirror. Why is it that I no longer look so beautiful to myself now when before I felt radiant? It's because of Sloan Rann, the lovely woman dancing with Anakin right now, the woman he seems _completely_ absorbed in.

_Force._ My lips tighten and I gulp as the dull ache in my chest begins to sharpen. Is this love? Feeling as though your heart is being ripped out when you see the person you've fallen for engrossed in someone else? If it is, then I never should have involved myself with him.

I shake my head fiercely, giving myself a sharp smack on the cheek, leaving a faint pink mark there. Glaring at my reflection, I am suddenly quite disgusted with myself. I am not this weak, weepy, insecure woman. I am strong. I am a_ game changer_ in one of the most cut-throat environments in the world; politics. I was a _queen_. I am inferior to no woman and no one, not even Anakin Skywalker, is going to make me feel otherwise.

This behavior is unbecoming of me and instead of standing in front of the mirror lamenting, I _should_ be kicking Anakin Skywalker's ass. I won't stoop so low as to suddenly become incredibly affectionate with Obi-Wan, especially since Anakin is probably cataloguing every laugh and touch as evidence of infidelity. No, I won't do that, but I am going to let Anakin Skywalker know just how displeased I fucking am!

I bare my teeth at myself in the mirror and growl. It's ridiculous, but I feel better. I am fierce and powerful and I'm going to show Anakin just how true that is. Yes, I'm going to show Senator Skywalker just who the fuck he's dealing with, _right now._

It's at that moment that my hair _falls_. The heavy duty hair pins that I pushed in so ruthlessly to uphold my tresses releases the thick, chocolatey mass like a dam releasing its watery hoard. Cursing under my breath, I watch the thick mop fall around my shoulders, transforming my wonderfully dignified coiffure into messy bed hair.

_Shit. _

Perhaps shaking my head so hard wasn't the best idea. Hastily, I begin hunting for the pins and pulling them out of my hair. I can't let anyone see me like this! Force knows what story they would make up to explain the disheveled state of my hair. That cannot happen no matter what! Darting to the door, I have nearly locked it when it pushes against my hands, opening slightly and revealing one Sloan Rann.

_Fuck._

A long, elegant eyebrow lifts as she takes in my appearance.

"Do you need something?" I ask stiffly, leaning around the door, opening it only enough to peek through.

"Well, this is the 'fresher," she replies evenly, a hint of amusement in her eyes, "… I was hoping to use it."

I grit my teeth, nostrils flaring. What the hell is so _funny_? Hasn't she ever seen long hair before? Force, but this woman pisses me off _mightily_.

I move back slowly and she brushes past me. As she does, a light scent of something amazing passes my nose. Kriffing hell. Of course she would smell good too. Glaring at her, I lock the 'fresher door with deliberate defiance.

She moves into a stall without sparing me a second glance and I move to the mirror in another attempt to fix my hair. Moments later she exits and moves to the sink next to me. She washes her hands, drying them off thoroughly before examining herself in the mirror. It's a needless exercise because she looks perfect. I tell her so.

"You look wonderful," I tell her softly, glancing at her in the mirror before returning my gaze to own image, "don't worry."

She smiles at me and it is surprisingly genuine. "Thank you," she says, pointedly looking me up and down, "you're pretty smoking hot yourself."

My eyebrows shoot into my forehead, and she laughs at my reaction.

We fall into silence. I try my hardest not to stare at her, to examine her out of my curiosity. How did Anakin meet this woman? They do truly seem to be friends, close friends. What's their story? I'm dying to know. Biting my lip, I turn my concentration back to my hair. It's murder to try to repair it. My unsteady hands and distracted mind isn't helping things.

"Would you like some help?" a soft, musical voice speaks into the silence.

I turn in surprise. Sloan in looking at me with a tilted head, eyes studying my head critically.

I consider her with a frown. Why the hell does she want to help me after the way I've treated her?

Sloan takes matters into her own hands. She grabs a plush chair near the wall and pulls it until it's behind me. Without preamble, she gently pushes me into it. I stare at her, mouth open, as she produces a comb out of nowhere and gathers my hairpins into her hands.

"What?" I say, sputtering, outrage beginning to bubble within.

"You know what? You remind me of my younger sister; all bark and no bite," she responds dismissively, waving a hand, "just relax. I'll do it in a fraction of the time you could, which isn't saying much considering the pace you were going. Force, just looking at you is making me tired and that's not good because I have a long night ahead of me."

I glare at her even as I finally concede and settle down. It's only a few moments later that she proves me right, she _is _much better at this than I am. Her hands are gentle as my curly hairstyle begins to reform around my head. Only a few minutes later, my hair has been redone and I hate to admit it, but it looks even better now than it did before.

"Wow," I say, looking into the mirror, "this looks fantastic, thank you."

"You're welcome," she says simply. She graces me with another smile before starting for the door.

I frown as she does, suddenly horribly ashamed at my own childishness. Sloan Rann is innocent; she has no idea that she's waltzed into a battle between an aggressive senator and her asshole Sith Lord boyfriend. She doesn't deserve to be treated in such a manner, especially since she's done nothing to deserve it. And even after I treated her coolly, she still offered to help me. I can't just let her leave without making it right. My issue is with Anakin, and it should have stayed there.

"Wait!" I call to her, just as her hand reaches for the door handle, "I'm sorry I've been rude; you didn't deserve it. I know it's not an excuse, but I've been under a lot of stress lately."

Sloan turns back to look at me, studying me closely. Then, she shrugs. "I can imagine," she replies sympathetically, emphatically, head tilting, "you _must_ be, to be dating Anakin Skywalker."

I freeze. Turning to her slowly, I look at her in a different light. She knows about me and Anakin. And she still came to the ball with him? Wait. Did she come in here to …?

"He told you," I speak emotionlessly, face expressionless.

"No, but it wasn't hard to figure out," she counters with a huff, rolling her eyes, "I've known Anakin for a long time. I've seen him act like a complete and utter fool, but not like he has tonight. He's trying to make a point, so much so that I'm surprised that no one else has noticed, especially your little Jedi friend. Besides, you two are shit at trying to keep your eyes off of one another."

My mouth is gaping at her words. We weren't that obvious were we?

"Yes," she answers pointedly, answering my unspoken question, "you were."

I blink, trying to process her words. If we were that transparent, it's a good thing reporters weren't allowed in the ballroom and that everyone, including Obi-Wan was too preoccupied with other things to notice my and Anakin's fixation on one another. That would have been bad.

"You don't seem to be angry," I observe carefully, studying her expression.

"Of course not," she snorts, examining herself in the mirror, "Anakin and I are just friends. I'm only here to do him a favor. Of course, I'm pissed now because I see that the favor is to make you jealous. Way to waste my time, Anakin Skywalker," she says, a frown shaking her head. "Don't worry, darling, I'm no competition. My husband is waiting for me at a hotel nearby."

"You're married?" I ask breathily, almost embarrassed at the amount of relief in my voice.

"Yep," she answers, popping the last sound, "I've been hitched for about a year now. Everything was going great until his Highness Skywalker summoned me here," her mouth twisted in annoyance. "My husband is just about as happy as you are that I'm here."

"You didn't want to come?" I ask, mystified by this woman. Sloan Rann seems to be overflowing with contradictions. There are so many that I'm not sure which one to address first. If she didn't want to come, why is she seemingly, so excited to be here?

"I didn't want to upset my husband," she explains, folding her arms. "I had no problem with coming; it's actually kind of fun. How often do you get invited to shindigs like this? But my husband always wants me all to himself. I've told him a million times that he cannot keep me at home barefoot and pregnant!" The irritation in her voice is reminiscent of an argument had many times.

"And _Anakin_," she continues, her annoyance seeming to grow, "he fucking thinks he can just call me all the way from Corellia to go to a ball with him just to vex his girlfriend? He'd better be glad I didn't kick him in the balls when I realized why I was_ really_ here!"

A laugh escapes my lips, completely without leave. But I can't help it. She is not at all what I expected. I find myself quite pleased by that.

She frowns at me for a moment, considering my amusement, then her expression softens and she begins laughing too.

"Wow," she says with a mildly abashed grin, "sorry about unloading on you, but your boyfriend drives me nuts. Do you know what he said when he called me? Mind you, I haven't heard from his ass in nearly a year."

"What did he say?" I ask in merriment, finally beginning to have a good time after being here for an hour and a half.

"I pick up the com and he says, 'Sloan, I need you, bring a dress,'" she deepens her voice and speaking slowly, her voice mocking. "Then he hangs up! Totally unheedful and uncaring of the shit storm he created with his call. He'd better be glad I came here at all and he should be even _happier _that I wore a dress because I was seriously considering coming in here in a kriffing sweater vest, just to show that fucker who's boss!"

I burst out laughing again, her face showing humor as well, as she joins me.

"So, why did you come if he pissed you off so badly?" I ask after calming down

"Because I owe him one. He saved my husband's life a few years ago," she replies after a moment."This was a small thing in comparison."

"Really?" I ask, surprised, "Anakin Skywalker _saved_ your husband's life?" I really didn't mean to say it with such surprise, but Anakin is the type of person who takes lives, not saves them.

"Yes. My husband, Sate Rann, was born with a weak heart," she explains, a faraway gleam entering her eyes, "he has asthma, bad lungs … a lot of things wrong with his body. I had seen him in the hospital a few times—I'm a doctor—but I never really gave him any attention, he was just one of the many patients needing help. One day, he rang his help bell as I was passing his room. Everyone else was busy so I went to investigate. As soon as I walked through the door, he lit up like a Christmas tree. That's when he asked me out on a date," Sloan shakes her head, a wondrous smile gracing her lips. "He told me right away that he had been wanting to ask me out for the longest time and decided to finally take the bull by the horns and do it. I couldn't believe it! He was literally hooked up to a ventilator with a whole mess of tubes running through him and he was asking me out on a date!" she shakes her head again, clearly still amazed about her husband's gall.

"I truly thought he was joking. He was such a small thing. His illness took such a toll that you could tell that he didn't grow into his frame. But he was still really cute …" she goes quiet, blinking slowly, "I'm ashamed to say that I completely dismissed him. I told him that when he got well, he could come and ask me again."

"I assume he got well?" I ask curiously.

Her face saddens. "No," she murmurs, "he didn't. He came back a week later and then a week after that, all because he kept having attacks. Each time he asked me out and each time I said no. Two weeks after he first asked me out, we began to talk, _really talk_. We talked about everything; politics, books, relationships, religion, _everything_. He made me laugh and he was so sweet that before I knew it …" her voice trails off, "… before I knew it, I was in love._ So_ in love. But by the time I realized that I was, he had stopped asking me out."

"Isn't that how things work, though?" I reply in sympathy.

"Yes, it is," she agrees with exasperation, "thankfully, my husband is only a step away from obstinacy. I took his silence for capitulation, when he had anything but. Three months after he first asked me to go out with him, he asked once again and I gladly, gladly agreed. We've been together ever since and just married after a very long engagement. I had to convince him that I didn't really need him to get well before marrying him. Thankfully, I won that argument." A small smile lingers on her face and my insides twist strangely at the obvious love she has for her husband.

"How did Anakin save him?" I ask, a thought forming in my head.

"My husband was having a heart attack," she says quietly, closing her eyes for a moment. "We were out on the town, spending some time together when someone, smelling heavily of death sticks, walked past. It choked my husband and he went into cardiac arrest. It was like I was there simply to watch; there was nothing I could do. Then, before I knew it, Anakin was there. He put his hand over my husband's chest and …" she pauses and looks at me, "something _happened_. Suddenly, my husband could _breathe_."

I give her a questioning look and she shrugs in helpless bewilderment.

It must have been the Force, Anakin must have used it to heal Sate Rann somehow. But helping someone in such a manner doesn't sound like something a Sith could or would do; it doesn't fall into their dogma of might and ruthlessness. Mercy is a Jedi credo. So why did Anakin help them?

"From that moment on, I promised myself that I'd always be there to help Anakin Skywalker whenever he needed," Sloan continues, eyes gleaming with the gravity of her seriousness. "I told him that he'd always have someone to patch him up, no matter what, because he saved the life of he who is most precious to me, my husband."

"Wow," I say, amazed, "that's an incredible story."

"Isn't it?" she replies, turning a smile on me. "I'm just glad he was there, if not, my husband might not be here today."

"Yeah," I murmur after a moment, "good thing."

I am stunned; well and truly _stunned_. Just when I think that I have a good idea of who Anakin Skywalker is, I discover something that completely derails who he is in my mind. On Tatooine, I heard how much of a monster he is, how he's been hurting people and taking lives since his youth. But now, Sloan is painting a completely different picture of him; one of a hero who saved the life of a random man suffering a heart attack. Makes me feel strange about my words earlier. I was so sure that he wasn't a prince, that he wasn't capable of altruistic emotions, but now, I'm not so sure. It seems I still have a long way to go to unravel the mystery that is my boyfriend.

Who the hell, exactly, is Anakin Skywalker?

My thoughts are interrupted when Sloan speaks up again. "You sounded surprised that Anakin saved my husband's life," she says casually, eyes back on the mirror.

My mouth opens and closes again. I was hoping she hadn't caught that.

She stares at me. "… You know, don't you?" she asks hesitantly, gaze intent on me.

I still. "What do you mean?" I ask carefully, returning her gaze.

"You know about Anakin's …" she pauses, her eyes searching, "… _less than savory_ activities."

I nod, quite unwilling, for some reason, to lie to her.

"Wow," she breathes, looking completely shocked, "he must _really_ love you."

I give her a questioning look, but she doesn't elaborate, only looks at me as though seeing me for the first time.

It elicits a whole new set of questions. I don't know how much she knows, but she is knowledgeable enough about Anakin's activities to be surprised that I am aware of his bad deeds. But how much does she know and why does _me_ knowing mean that he loves me? Because If Anakin loves me, then he must really care for this woman; she knows about him and she's still _alive_. Before I can open my mouth to ask, a beeping noise fills the air.

"Oh! My com; it must be my husband," she murmurs, producing her communication device out of thin air, _again_. Dear Force, where does this woman hide all this stuff?

"Sorry, I have to take this," she says, giving me a quick smile before darting out of the 'fresher.

With a sigh, I turn to the mirror and examine my appearance for a few moments longer; looks like I won't be getting anymore answers from Sloan Rann right now. With a nod, I grab my purse and head to the door

I exit the 'fresher and enter the hallway just as Sloan ends the comm call. She turns to me.

"That was my husband," she says, rolling her eyes, "and he insists that he misses me. Wants to know when I'll be home. I'm going to surprise him and head on out."

"What?" I exclaim in surprise, nearing her, "you're leaving already?"

She laughs, "Yes, I am. Your man is here, but mine is elsewhere and I'd very much like to be with him."

I study her for a moment and then nod. I've only talked to her for a small while, but strangely, I'm sad to see her go.

"Please, give Anakin my apologies and tell him if he ever calls me for a reason such as this again, he can start looking for doctors capable of performing a testicle retrieval operation," she says, a smile on her lips and a wicked gleam in her eyes.

My eyes widen in amusement and I laugh with her. "I would please ask you not to hurt him in that area," I reply, as our laughter subsides, "I really quite like that part of him."

Her mouth opens in delight as we cackle again.

"Very well, I'll spare him, but only for your sake, senator," she concedes merrily, eyes gleaming.

"Thank you very much," I respond, with gleaming eyes, nodding.

Sloan looks at me with a small smile before nodding back. "I can see why Anakin loves you. You are quite lovely. Strong, beautiful, and you have a good spirit."

Looking at her, I smile and it's genuine. "Thank you, Sloan. That means a lot to me." It does. It isn't often that I receive sincere praise, but hers feel like it.

Her smile fades and she moves close to me. "A parting word of advice, Padmé Amidala," she says seriously, looking down at me, her hands on my shoulders, "Anakin Skywalker knows nothing about love. What he likes, he keeps near, what he loves, he nearly destroys out of his desire to never lose it. You must teach him what true love is. Not possessiveness, jealousy, and control, but understanding, kindness and compromise. If anyone can do it, I know that it's you."

I grip her arms where they're on my shoulders and squeeze. "Thank you for reminding me of that," I speak truthfully, gazing into her dark eyes, "I really needed to hear it."

"No problem," she responds with a nod, "I've been where you are. I've been the nutcase who's snapped at any woman who looked at Sate wrong, because of course, as soon as I started dating him the vultures became interested and started circling. I've been the one who needed to hear that a relationship is work and that it requires patience and a willingness to learn on both sides. Your relationship with Anakin may get worse before it gets better, but it _will_ get better if you just hold on, if you allow your love of him to sustain you through the dark times."

I release a breath, considering her words. It's nice to hear that there's a light at the end of the tunnel from someone who knows Anakin and it's nice to talk to another woman about relationships. It reminds me of the good times I had with my maidservants, before they were killed during Naboo's invasion. This conversation is so like what I would have with them. A sudden stinging sensation builds behind my eyes. I miss them, Force I miss them _so much_.

Sloan smiles gently. She steps back and surveys me even as she turns toward the exit. "Enjoy the rest of your night, Padmé. This event is quite beautiful, so take advantage of it and let the cares of tomorrow take care of itself. And afterwards? Make sure you have just as much fun in the after party as you do at this ball. _I_ certainly intend to," she says with a smirk, leaving me no questions as to what kind of 'fun' she's referring to. "Toodles, Senator Amidala. It is my hope that we will meet again."

I let out yet another surprised bark of laughter as she winks at me and then steals down the hall, disappearing into the many forms of Coruscant's political body.

"Goodbye, Sloan Rann," I say into the empty hallway, a strange peace settling over me, "it was a pleasure to meet you."

#*#*#*#*#

When I step out onto the ballroom floor once more, it doesn't take me long to find Obi-Wan. He is near the central refresher, pacing back and forth and staring intently down the hallway. It speaks to his focus that he jumps when I tap him on the shoulder. The expression of intense relief that floods his face confuses me.

"Padmé Amidala!" he exclaims, releasing a huge breath, his tone slightly reproachful, "where in the Sith hell have you _been_? You said you were going to the 'fresher and then you disappear! I've looked _everywhere_ for you."

I frown. "I wasn't gone for that long, was I?" I ask disbelievingly, looking at the time on a nearby wall. My eyes widen in shock when I see that Sloan and I was chatting in the 'fresher for nearly an hour!

"Yes," Obi-Wan answers stiffly, "you _were_. I've been here so long, eyeing every woman who came out of that 'fresher so intently, that I'm sure Senator Mina Dhori thinks I'm a pervert now! She's been giving me sideways looks since she came out and saw me staring!"

I try to hide it behind an apologetic visage, but the thought of proper Senator Dhori surveying Obi-Wan suspiciously is quite frankly, hilarious and I am unable to contain my mirth. I begin to laugh quietly.

Obi-Wan looks at me and tries to keep a straight face, but soon, his expression softens and he chuckles along with me.

"You, Senator Amidala, will be the death of me. I will age before my time because of you," Obi-Wan says in exasperation, "where in the galaxy were you?"

"I did go the 'fresher, but I went to the one at the back of the ballroom. I'm very sorry to have worried you, Obi-Wan," I reply sincerely as my cheer fades.

He sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Well, I suppose there's no need to dwell on it anymore," he responds, "perhaps a dance? It would be a travesty to come to a ball and not dance."

I smile at him.

"I'd love to dance with you, Obi-Wan," I answer sweetly.

Moments later, we are on the ballroom floor and he is swirling me around. I grin at him, closing my eyes and allowing the music and the rhythm to take me. I love dancing, love doing this. It allows me to leave the world behind, to simply be. There's no better feeling in the galaxy—

My thoughts are jolted as Obi-Wan stops whirling me abruptly.

"If I may cut in, Master Kenobi?" a smooth voice says. Opening my eyes, I see Anakin standing next to us, cutting an incredible figure in his gray and red.

So, now he wants to acknowledge me? In the middle of a swirling mass of people? I'm tempted to step on his foot and then storm away, but thankfully, I come to my senses. No need to simply hand the media a scandal.

Helpless to do anything else, Obi-Wan nods stiffly and bows away gracefully. Gritting my teeth, I reluctantly put my hand in Anakin's, keenly aware that an incredible amount of eyes have landed on us.

_Kriffing_ great.

We are quiet as we get back into the groove of the dance. I try to close my eyes and allow the music to take me again, but it doesn't. Anakin's heavenly scent is doing that, damn him. Finally, after what seems like forever, he speaks.

"I don't think I should have asked you to dance, Senator," he says snidely, quietly, only the barest hint of mockery in his voice, "I don't think your date likes it."

I open my mouth to blast him only to hesitate. I said I wanted things between Anakin and I to be easy, and at this juncture, I'm willing to admit that I might have been doing more to add to the problem rather than fix it. Although he might not know any better, I do. I can alleviate this situation, and I will because if I don't, it won't be.

Ignoring his dig, I look him in the eye. "I've missed you, Anakin," I speak softly, squeezing his hand gently.

His eyes flicker and a frown passes over his face. "Is that so?" he drawls, clearing not expecting such a non combative response and I have to struggle to contain a sudden smile. I'm glad Sloan reminded me of something that I had lost sight of; Anakin really has no kriffing clue how to handle or act in a relationship.

"Yes," I reply softly, nodding. "You look wonderful and I wish that I was able to be your date tonight."

His face closes. "Then why didn't you?" he asks stiffly, hand tightening around mine, as the ballroom flashes past in a whirl of color, "you could have been the one on my arm, Padmé."

"Yes," I agree, with a small smile "but protecting you was more important than assuaging your ego."

"You think that insisting that my woman accompany me to the ball was _ego_?" he asks incredulously, glaring down at me.

I look at him sharply, "If not that, then what?" Even though I'm aware of his issues with Obi-Wan, I want him to tell me about it. But I know he won't, at least not right now. I doubt that I would _ever_ have known if I hadn't gone to Tatooine.

He falls silent, eyes flicking so quickly in Obi-Wan's direction and back that I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't been looking for it all night.

Sighing, I shake my head. "It doesn't matter why, Anakin. Would coming here with you tonight be better than you remaining a free man? Is it better than knowing that you are still beneath the Jedi's radar? I know that you wanted us to come together and I did too, but I didn't need to, Anakin. Not really. It would have been redundant."

He tilts his head as he looks down at me, his face questioning.

"I'm yours Anakin." I confess quietly, avoiding his gaze as I gather my courage. "You don't have to parade me back and forth in front of these people to know that this is true. There is no one in this galaxy that I'd ever want but you."

I sneak a peek up at him, and my stomach twists at the dark, triumphant, possessive gleam in his eyes.

"Is that so," he practically purrs, pulling me slightly closer to than is strictly decent.

"Yes," I answer, mouth drying, "but just like I'm yours, you're mine and no one else's. Keep that in mind, Skywalker, because I'm not going after her, I'm coming after _you_."

He smirks and it's like someone has given me wings with the way my heart seems to ascend. Force, but this man should not affect me so.

"Yeah?" he says softly, eyes glowing.

"_Yes_," I insist, giving him a mocking glare, unable to help but be completely absorbed in him, "I see how these political slags are staring at you and it's only my incredible self-control that has stopped me from stamping 'property of Padmé Amidala', all over your body, face included," I retort, delighting in his deep chuckles. "At the least it's good to know that Sloan isn't a threat."

He looks at me in consternation, even as we begin another dancing set.

"How?" he asks, brows furrowed. Then his expression darkens as he obviously gets an epiphany. His next words confirm it. "Sloan," he says expressionlessly. It's not a question.

"Yes," I reply smugly, "it was Sloan. She's quite lovely by the way." She really is. I wonder how long she will remain on Coruscant. I have a feeling we could be great friends.

"Traitor," he mutters, glancing around.

"She's not here," I tell him cheerfully after a few seconds, "she got a call from her husband and told me to give you her apologies."

Anakin's face twitches, but I'm not done.

"She also said that the next time you have a spat with me, to fucking talk it out before calling her all the way from Corellia to put on a show," I tell him happily, enjoying myself immensely.

He is wordless, his eyes narrowed. He mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, 'kriffing Sloan.'

"Don't worry, big boy," I whisper to him, looking at him beneath my lashes, "I promise that when I'm done with you tonight, there won't be anyone on your mind but me."

His eyes turn yellow for a split second and for a moment, I think he's going to throw me over his shoulder and spirit me from the ballroom, caveman style.

"You have half an hour to find a way to leave," Anakin says harshly, as the second set finally finishes, "if not, I'm going to _carry _you out of here." He leans in close to me. "I promise you won't like the scandal that follows."

My eyes widen, even as I nod internally in satisfaction. I can _always _recognize the caveman look.

He said I had thirty minutes, which isn't bad but it isn't great either. To leave a political ball within three hours is only barely acceptable and for Anakin and I to leave at the same time would indeed set the tongues wagging and would completely undermine everything I've been trying to do tonight which is protect the both of us.

But at this moment, the desire singing in my veins is destroying every ounce of common sense I possess.

"You're going to meet me at my apartment," he continues, "where I will take my time peeling you out of that dress."

My nether regions nearly explode, I struggle to inhale and exhale properly even as wetness springs between my legs.

"Yes," I breathe, staring at him with glazed eyes.

He expression drops as our eyes meet and remain locked. I see passion in those depths, the promise of pleasure, passion and, happiness. That's what I want. I want to be happy.

With Anakin.

A gentle jolting from a nearby passerby alerts me to the fact that we have been staring at each other for longer than is wise. I tear my gaze away from Anakin to see Obi-Wan making his way to us.

"Thank you for allowing me to dance with your partner tonight, Master Kenobi," Anakin says, bowing slightly, as the Jedi master reaches us "it was quite _pleasurable_."

I fight the heat that is threatening to ascend my neck at his words even as I resist the urge to gift him with a swift kick.

_Dammit_, Anakin! Stop being so kriffing reckless!

Obi-Wan falters. "I'm glad," he says simply, gaze sharpening.

Anakin nods. A fleeting smirk adorns his lips for a split second before disappearing.

"Senator Amdiala, I trust you will enjoy the rest of your night," he says formally, giving another slight bow, "I will see you again at the Peace summit.

I nod, not daring to speak. Anakin gives me one last look that has my blood singing before moving through the crowd.

Obi-Wan looks at Anakin's retreating back and then again at me. I avoid his gaze as we move from the dance floor. "Padmé," he says casually, after a long moment of silence between us, "how well do you know Senator Skywalker?"

Desire dies in agony as ice fills my veins. "He's a colleague, Obi-Wan," I answer easily, meeting his gaze evenly, "you know that we are the two representatives for our quadrants at the Peace talks. It has required me to work rather closely with him, moreso than I'd like."

It's not untrue. Anakin is a distraction that I can ill afford. It's always a task to keep my thoughts off of him. Unfortunately, that doesn't appease Obi-Wan.

"It's just that you two looked really …" he pauses, searching for a word, "close."

"Close?" I echo, eyes narrowing on him.

"Comfortable, rather," he asserts quietly, eyes meeting mine, "more so than acquaintances are."

"Are you trying to imply something, Obi-Wan?" I ask coldly, my heart nearly beating out of my chest even as my voice turns emotionless.

He hesitates and I can almost see him consciously reach the decision to back down. My relief is so great that I feel nearly faint. It's only my training that allows my face to remain neutral.

"No, I'm not," he says with a sigh, "It's just that I worry about you. I don't want you to get hurt."

My expression softens.

"I promise that I'm being as careful as humanely possible," I assure him, taking his hand in mine, "please don't worry about me. You have enough to worry about—"

His com goes off, interrupting my words.

Eyes narrowing, Obi-Wan pulls it out of his pocket. He tenses. "I must leave at once," he says, turning to me, "I'm being summoned. There looks to be an emergency at the Temple. I'm sorry, Padmé."

I sigh, wilting a little. "It's not like you did this just to be able to leave the ball," I say with exasperation, giving him a small smile. "Just be safe, okay? That's all I ask."

He nods, but then hesitates again. "Will you be okay getting home?"

My exasperation increases tenfold. "I think I'll be okay, Obi-Wan," I reply, rolling my eyes, "I'm well capable of taking care of myself."

"I know it," he answers softly, soft brown eyes intense, "but I still worry."

I swallow, a burning feeling welling in my eyes.

"I know," I reply in kind, giving his hand another squeeze, "that's why I love you."

His eyes flicker. Then, he nods and is gone.

Blinking, I look after him for a moment, before nodding resolutely. With Obi-Wan gone, it'll be a lot easier to leave the ball and they'll be a lot less questions about my early retirement. Mingling a little more, especially with the Trade Federation, should satisfy my presence here.

I glance at the clock. There's only about twenty more minutes before I will be with Anakin again. Just the thought of it makes Nubian butterflies flutter madly in my belly. I want him so badly that it's practically a taste on my tongue. These few minutes are going to last forever, so I should socialize, to make it seem even less so.

Time to get to work.

#*#*#*#*#

Finally, I am leaving. The half hour passed by as slowly as I anticipated, but now it's over. It's _done_.

A quick glance around tells me that Anakin has already made his exit; a good thing. He might be waiting in his quarters for me right now. Heat flares within me at the thought.

Yes, I need to go. _Now_.

Without preamble I move toward the grand staircase to leave. As I do, I pass a few members of the Trade Federation, ones that finally saw fit to leave their gang in the corner. Their gazes are cold as they watch me, but I return the look in kind, unintimidated. It's no secret that I despise the Trade Federation and since this ball is an epic failure, there's no need to try to play nice. Now that Nute Gunray's gone, and their anger has been kindled against us, there's no way we won't go back to exchanging fire again soon. As of now, I cannot see any possible way that either this ball or the peace talks will fulfill their purposes.

So, what's the use of trying to pretend that I like these murdering, raping pieces of shaak poodoo?

I grace them with a look that plainly says that I think they're no better than the dirt underneath my lace heels.

Their eyes widen in unison and it would have been funny if I didn't find them so abhorrent.

Giving them the cut direct, which I know will probably be gossiped about tomorrow from the many eyes watching, I continue up the staircase with one goal in mind: Anakin Skywalker.

It takes a few minutes for transport to come around. Settling into the back seat, I gaze out the window, reflecting on the ball; on Anakin, Sloan, Obi-Wan and the mess the Republic has gotten into due to Valorum's leadership, it if can be called that.

It's our fault, the Senate's responsibility, for allowing Valorum to remain Interim Chancellor for so long. With Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's disappearance nearly four years ago, the Senate should have voted on a new leader then. But the frenzied search to find Palpatine coupled with the increasing seriousness of the war, and the appearance of competence in Valorum, delayed the vote, to our detriment. Now, Valorum has displayed how grossly incapable he is and needs to be unseated. If the Republic is going to survive, we need new leadership. I already have a plan, I simply need to set events in motion. If all goes well, then the Galactic Republic will have a new Supreme Chancellor soon. If all goes even better, it'll be me.

Politics is a messy, sticky, dirty, thankless job, but it is something I do well. I know as Supreme Chancellor I can make this galaxy better. I'm not fool enough to think that it'll be as easy as waving a magic wand. No, this is going to take work, but it's a job I'm willing to do. I want to help people, I want people to be able to live in peace no matter where they are. I want the citizens of this galaxy to be able to trust in me, their leader, to listen to them and take their needs into account before my own. I want to be the leader that everyone dreams about.

I can do it, I _will _do it. Soon …

After about ten minutes, the transport stops in front of 500 Republica. Without waiting for the driver to open the door, I exit and head toward the building. Anakin is in there, waiting for me. Dear Force, but the anticipation is so high that I think I'm going to explode.

In no time, I am in front of Anakin's apartment. Before I can even raise my hand to sound the alarm, I am pulled into the apartment, nearly off my feet as the door closes silently behind me. Then, I am against the wall, gasping into the air as Anakin's glorious lips latches onto my neck.

"Finally, you are here," he growls, his large hand cupping my face as he explores my neck, "I was getting ready to look for you, senator." His smooth voice runs through me, and I melt against his deliciously hard form. "You looked so beautiful tonight, Amidala," he continues, pausing in his sucking before attacking my neck once more, "I thought I was going to explode just looking at you. Now, I'm going to take my time reducing you to a quivering mass."

"Anakin," I choke, unable to get out a word as, true to his word, his hand go to the back of my dress and begin to unzip it.

"Dear, senator," he purrs, eyes as yellow as spun honey, "I'm going to enjoy this very much."

I open my mouth to weakly protest his manhandling, when his warm, soft lips cover mine once again. As his hands begin to knead my breasts, sending streams of delicious fire though my body, time fades into nothingness.

My last, nonsensical thought is that I forgot to ask Anakin if he knew anything about Gunray's disappearance.

#*#*#*#*#

I wake.

Blinking slowly, the world begins to gain clarity. A large, male hand rests in front of my face. I smile softly, turning to face the body that the hand belongs to. He is awake and awaiting my gaze.

Brown meets blue.

Leaning forward, I kiss him so gently, that my heart nearly breaks. Force, I love this man. I do. His lips are so soft, so light underneath mine. How the hell are lips so fucking _delicious_.

As I look down into content, sky blue eyes, I make a decision.

"Ani," I say, my hair falling over us, encompassing us in a curtain of chocolate, "I have something I want to show you." The tone of my voice is serious, grave.

He looks at me questioningly, alertness entering his eyes. "Padmé," he says slowly, sitting up slightly, the sheets rustling softly as he does,"what's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just," I pause, aware of his gaze on my naked body, "… I did something … for you and I want you to see it."

"Okay," he replies, the word drawn out, voice filled with suspicion.

I shoot him an exasperated look as I climb off the bed. "It's not bad, Anakin, just … surprising," I say with a reassuring smile. "Cloth yourself but stay here. I'll be back soon."

Before he can object, I'm gone.

#*#*#*#*#

I am more nervous than I remember being in a long time, so much so that I'm shaking. This is it: I'm going to tell Anakin about his mother and what better way to do so then to show her to him? I have a small, private, holovid that is tuned in to my parent's frequency and no one else's. It'll be most useful now to connect Anakin to his mother. It's not the in person reunion that I wanted, but perhaps it's better this way.

Soon, I am in my apartment, rummaging through my room and grabbing the holovid. I turn it on and wait for it to settle on my parent's frequency. It does and soon a green light shows. Satisfied that it's working, I move back toward the door only to pause in front of a nearby mirror. _Wow_. I look … _wow_.

My hair drapes down my back like a falling waterfall. My lipstick is smeared and my dress is crinkled as though thrown on in haste, which it was. I look wanton, like I just finished making wild, hot love, which is completely true. I don't want to _look_ it though.

Perhaps I should take a moment to freshen up … and to quell my nearly insane nerves.

I take a quick sonic bath, and am changing into something more comfortable when the com goes off in my apartment, alerting me to an arrival.

I frown, emerging from my room. Now, who can that possibly be? It can't be Anakin. I explicitly told him to stay put. Obi-Wan maybe? Can't be. He had an emergency with the Order. Then who?

A thread of unease burgeoning within me, I move to the door and press the panel control, opening it. Standing before me, dressed in full uniform, are four members of the Coruscant Security Force.

My eyes narrow in consternation as my gaze alights on them. "What …? What's going on? Why are you here?" I ask in confusion before a horrifying thought strikes me. Had something happened to my family? To Mon Mothma or Bail? To Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan left the ball nearly a half hour before I did, plenty of time to get into trouble on a planet such as this. Is he okay?

Before I can open my mouth to ask, one of them steps forward and I recognize him as, Winborn, the chief of the Constabulary. I've never met him personally, which is odd considering my Karma-cide activities, but I've heard of him.

My eyes widen in incredulous disbelief as he holds up glowing blue binders.

"Senator Amidala," he intones roughly, glaring down at me, "by the order of Interim Chancellor Valorum, you're under arrest for the murder of Nute Gunray!"

End of chapter.

**Chapter 32: Senator, Interrupted**: The beginning of the end, the beginning of a beginning.

IMPORTANT A/N: Okay, so several things and I apologize in advance for the lengthiness of this note, but I have a lot of things to tell you guys. I am once again being harassed by self styled rule enforcers on this site. If an author, some of you may be familiar with them. They leave spam messages and reviews for the authors who they think are breaking the rules. They are not official moderators of this site, they're just random people who get a kick out of bothering authors who mind their own business. I have received several of their generic messages insisting I am violating site rules. While I simply ignore them and refuse to respond to their messages, I do take the time to report them for spamming as that is also a violation of the rules. I would encourage any and all of my readers to do so as well. After all, if they want to enforce it with me, it's only right that they are held to the same standards, no?

However, their messages, in addition to them posting my story on their community boards, does create a potential problem. It is for this reason that it's important to be familiar with my blog, Facebook, Twitter, or whatever because if my account is ever deleted and you want to continue to read my stories, you'll be able to contact me or get updates as to what I'm doing next. I do have an account with Archive of Our Own, but I haven't posted anything there yet. If I decide to, I will inform you guys through Facebook.

Since I'm talking about Facebook, I'm going to start leaving more lengthy messages there as well as responses to select guest reviews (I'm talking to you Lagertha), so check that regularly. I'll put the link on my profile.

Also … I've been toying with this idea and I'm going to go ahead and put it out there. I know my pride is a factor, so I'll allow you guys some input. I'm going to put a poll up as to what to do with my fics; change them, leave them as they are, or leave this site completely and move to AO3. I'm starting to like the last option more and more because I know for a fact I won't be harassed there. I can write and post in peace. That's more important than I can say because I have become extremely weary of these spammers. So, please let your opinion be known in the POLL or IN A REVIEW. That may be douschey and I apologize, but it takes me forever to read PMs.

That's the really important stuff guys.

I do want to thank my betas for their hard work. They're the best. I also want to thank my reviewers; you guys are so very amazing. You're the reason I'm updating this so quickly. Also, a quick shout out to AwaitTheRise. Her review was so sweet and hilarious that I forced myself to get off of my butt and update. Between the snow that is slamming my poor region, to the Naruto fanfiction that I've been devouring for the last weeks (NaruHina rules!), it took a lot to get me on my computer and do some work, but that did it.

It wasn't just her of course, it was all of you guys. Seriously, you all are reviewing so much that it's blowing my mind. It's why I'm determined to get these last chapters out in a more timely manner despite the hectic nature of RL. Even if I can't get the next one out quite as quickly, I promise that as long as you guys continue to review the way you are, I WILL finish this fic. Do not doubt that. So, for my loyal reviewers:

Lagertha, AwaitTheRise, TheHappyFan, Guest, Chrisgocountyjr, Guest, NOAHANDKURTFOREVER, lilysora, beachchick3, Stars of Artemis, jokehead, Blackest, GroovyGrape, anonimous, Lizze Ace, The Benevolent Scribe, Rookworm, Hello, Cookiemonsta1233, BadWolf8588, Regular visitor, SphinxScribe, Alexxis T. Swan, Mas, Guest, PJOLover1234, Arksurek, Reader, master disk, Rapunzel Targaryen, pinkolifant, Freefan1412, Anonymous, Alexander Sextus, Trihedraf, Guest, Mystica faery, Grz, Chaszcz, JoieMaris, The King of White, livvi695, explodingbunnies52, Thinker90, Guest, Libquedation, Guest, a student, Keytchtee, Guest, Mal, erstott2012, Loteva, JourneyRocks13, Nilly Melody, Guest, Hache, Mimi, Guest, Madi, Apple, Nelly, Guest, Juliette, K.B., Guest, Charlie, Starveforupdates, Guest, Paula, BIP BIP, Guest, Guest, Sara, Starlight, O, BIP, Guest, Guest, Adrian, diz, didi, Guest, Hello, Guest, a reader, amber, ME, angie, Grizzlybear119, Guest, Maigra917, Glee Plane, silverslitherer, HE-SpecOps, AnniPad, Cyrus Dragonhunter, May Arisa, Lord Lelouch, badkidoh, Fell Apprentice, crimsonwolf49, ladysithari4370, IWasNeverReal, female'wraith, , ILDV, Roses Near Rivers, ReaperxMars, Tycat, DVNIKKI, sharp52092, Vaneesa85, Jedi Master Misty Sman-Esay

Your words inspire me to write. You guys are what make writing this fic fun and rewarding. You are awesome.

Thank you all.


	32. Senator, Interrupted

**Chapter 32: Senator, Interrupted**

**_D_**_arth _**_V_**_ader_

I frown and shake my head in exasperation as Padmé darts out the door before I can stop her. After being without her for a whole week, I don't want her anywhere but by my side. She should be happy that I haven't handcuffed her to me, so serious am I about her presence. Surely whatever she wants to show me isn't more important than another session of cuddl- _carnal bliss_.

Allowing my body to relax, I sigh, resigned to waiting for her return. I'm not too annoyed with her actions as her absence gives me time to think on the significant events of the night. If I hadn't believed attending the ball would be at all beneficial, then I was disabused of that notion quickly. Attending confirmed something that I have been suspicious of for a while: Obi-Wan does indeed know who I am. When we exchanged gazes as I descended the grand staircase with Sloan, I saw it in his eyes. It was in the brief flash of weakness that escaped, the pathetic facade of sorrow that he allowed to leak for a fraction of a second. It was such an obvious display that it took all I had not to sneer at his pitiful attempt to unsettle me.

As if I would fall for his tactics again. I will _never_ trust a Jedi again.

But that begs the question; has Obi-Wan told anyone else about me, namely the Order? It seems likely. Obi-Wan has always been the poster boy for the perfect Jedi; perfectly in control of his emotions, perfectly obedient, perfectly respectful when presenting a dissenting opinion … perfectly capable of deceiving and using a young boy who trusted him and all for the sake of the _kriffing_ Jedi Order.

Yes, Obi-Wan would surely have told the Jedi about me by now. But now what? What do I do now that the Jedi surely know that I am Sith?

It's a disastrous development, one that begs my immediate attention. It demands that I begin making contingency plans, to figure out how to control for such a devastating progression. But I don't move, I continue to lay there on the bed, sheets damp with sweat and seed, a delightful testimony to Padmé and my lovemaking. A cool breeze wafts through the window then, caressing my moist skin as I languish there, utterly and completely at ease. I feel strangely warm and comfortable; it's quite a novel experience. It's all Padmé fault, of course. Loving, licking, touching, easing into, thrusting, _pounding_ into her for hours has completely taken the edge off my mind, my senses.

So agreeable am I that I cannot bring myself to react properly to the news that the Jedi probably know that I, Anakin Skywalker, Senator to the newly reinstated Arkanis Sector of the Republic, am a Sith Lord. I'll care tomorrow when the drugging effects of Padmé's body fades. But for now … for now I will rest.

Closing my eyes, I feel myself begin to drift off. There's no harm in getting in a quick nap before Amidala returns.

Moments later, I am asleep.

#*#*#*#*#

An alert at my door wakes me.

Frowning, I rise, but not before realizing I'm still in bed alone. That shouldn't be: Where the fuck is Amidala? Did she not return yesterday? Or did she return and leave again upon seeing that I was asleep? Both options are unlikely as it would be more like her to simply climb in bed with me. Not only that, I would have noticed her entry into my apartment. Amidala did not return last night as she said she would.

Gritting my teeth, I push the covers away and rise, quickly grabbing my clothes and throwing them on. Knowing Amidala, she could have decided to leave or remain away for several reasons; emergency senatorial duties, becoming angry at me for any number of unknown reasons and staying away, being summoned by the Queen of Naboo, being angry at me for any number of unknown reasons and staying away, falling asleep at her apartment or, the most probable; becoming angry at me for any number of unknown reasons and simply staying away.

Fuck, but why do women have to be so confusing? And who the kriffing hell is at my door? Amidala wouldn't have knocked. After the first time she came to my apartment, she made it clear that alerting the system was beneath her and as such, now simply hacks it and comes in. So who the fuck is at my door at five in the fucking morning?

This had better be good, because I really don't have time or patience for any bullshit.

Reaching the door, I tap the control panel and immediately a screen appears, showing a group of people standing at my door.

I freeze.

For a moment, I quickly consider what would be a dizzying amount of options for anyone else before quickly disregarding all of them. They all require me to do something that I rarely ever do which is _run_. I don't run from shit, _shit runs from me_. And if these fucking Jedi at my door don't have a good reason for being here, they're going to understand first hand why this is so.

Fixing a proper senatorial smile on my face, I open the door.

The Jedi's faces are expressionless as I am revealed. Neither their body language nor their faces give anything away and I must say I'm very vaguely impressed with their stony visages. Seems that the Jedi have chosen well the minions they have put in danger by invading the sanctity of my home. I take a moment to study them, cognizant that I am being rude by simply staring at them and refraining from polite acknowledgment.

After several long, strained moments of silence, I finally speak. "A bit early in the year for Hallowe'en, isn't it? I know the Jedi are hard up for some fun, but this is just _sad_. Come back in a few months, guys, I'll be sure to have some candy then."

I turn to leave, only to sense the Jedi move closer. Turning back, I see that they are clearly not amused by my incredible wit. "Anakin Skywalker," a Twi'lek female, dressed in traditional Jedi garb, says stoically, "your presence is requested at the Jedi Temple."

So, it's Anakin Skywalker and not Senator Skywalker. The designation speaks volumes. I fold my arms across my chest, rubbing my chin as I make a show of thinking extremely hard about their _request_. "And if I refuse?" I ask softly, allowing the slightest hint of danger to slip out.

They immediately tense, and I can feel their anxiety and fear through the Force, though they try hard to contain it. Their whole beings focus on me as their hands slowly lower to their sides. "It would be in your best interest to agree," the Twi'lek Jedi speaks again, her voice forcibly calm.

The Jedi shift slightly allowing the most marginal glimpse of their lightsabers. I nearly smile at their gall. Jedi do not show weapons at all, it's part of their code, an effort to appear to be peacemakers by encouraging civilians to forget that those of the Order are highly skilled killers. To allow even the barest hint of their lightsabers to show sends a very strong message; they don't intend to take 'no' as an answer from me, and if I resist, they've been authorized to negotiate … _aggressively_. Although I would like nothing more than to tell these Jedi to get the kriff away from my door, I cannot. I must play this game carefully because I know the Jedi are looking for any and every reason to attack me. It goes without saying that they know I'm the Sith. There is no other reason for the Jedi to be at my door right now.

I roll my eyes, uttering a childish huff. "Well, if you put it _that_ way, I guess I have no choice do I?"

The expressions on their faces and the clear preparation for violence etched in the rigidity of their bodies tell me that no, I do not have a choice at all.

#*#*#*#*#

Being in the Jedi Temple feels … _strange_.

I close my eyes, inhaling slightly as I step through the tall entryway. Being here unsettles me in a way that is entirely discomfiting. I pause, startling my guards, even as the cognizance of their presence fades. I can almost feel … echoes of a time; visions of a life that could be. Every way I turn my head, I see myself; in the corner by the statue, peeking around it hiding from someone; walking with a faceless group of people, laughing as we stroll to our destination. Then, quickly as it comes, it's gone, the harsh reality of the present solidifying my existence in the here and now. Yet even as the visions hang on the edges of my memory, right out of reach, the feeling remains. It's as though this is not my first time being in this building; it's as though I know this place, as though I'm returning home after a long journey.

I don't understand it, and I like it even less. It disturbs me more than I can say.

My steps are measured as I am escorted down long halls, past structures, holograms and paintings. They tell the history of the Jedi Order, of its conflict with the Sith. They tell of a holy reverence for the Force.

The Force …

I take another breath as a wave of energy crashes over me. It is strong here, so strong that I understand now why it is called a Temple. I have rarely felt the Force so strongly, the only other place being the Sith Fortress of Thule. The presence becomes more intense the deeper I am led into the Temple. But it's not the angry, wild, volatile energy that I am familiar with. It is calm, smooth … soothing, insidiously taking the edge off without one knowing,

I don't like it either … and that is what I will continue to tell myself.

My eyes move steadily over my surroundings as I am escorted deeper into the headquarters of the Jedi Order. I take in everything that I lay my eyes on, using my ability in the Force to send my senses much further than my vision allows. It gives me a workable knowledge of the immediate layout of the Jedi Temple and I have to say, it's … eye opening.

However much I despise the Jedi, their living quarters are magnificent. Its long halls and tall majestic pillars lend it a grace and elegance seen only in the most exclusive dwellings. It's an appropriate phenomenon, considering the Jedi are one of the most exclusive cliques in the known galaxy.

As we continue to walk, there is little movement. The place is a lot emptier than I know it to normally be. I notice quickly there are no younglings or civilians around; no non-combat ready personnel can be seen anywhere. The few who linger about are warriors; yet another strong message sent by the Jedi. They stare at me from behind pillars and from along the carpeted paths in the main hall. They center their attention on the Sith Lord surrounded by Knights, the enemy being led willingly into their sanctum.

It's strange to think that I could have grown up here, that the echoes could have been reality, that I could have learned in this place; become friends with some of these Jedi. I could have called these halls home, run through this temple as a free child. Now, it's just a carrot; a cruel reminder of what was dangled before my eyes to control me, only to be snatched away once I was no longer of any use. The only thing I want now is for these plush carpets, stone walls and fancy beams to burn down just as Sidious' sanctuary did.

I'm startled by an unexpected pang at the thought. Perhaps I will allow the structure to stand, if only to honor its commitment to the Force, however weak Ashla is.

Against my will, I become more agitated as I am led into the inner sanctum of the Jedi Temple, no doubt to the Jedi's High Council Chambers. Taking me so deep into this place is a very clever ploy on the Jedi's part. If this meeting doesn't go their way, they can simply insist that this was an impromptu meeting with a senator; unusual, but not inappropriate. But if this meeting _does_ go the way they expect, I'll be a Sith Lord surrounded by what will no doubt be some of the strongest Jedi in the Order. And if, by some miracle, I were able to defeat them, it'd be hell for me to fight through a Temple full of Jedi to escape.

It is good that I have not underestimated the Jedi thus far, but I am not too happy to have been so right about their competence.

Finally, we reach the doors of the High Council Chambers. They are opened for me and I enter without preamble. The room is smaller than I thought it would be, with plush, maroon chairs siting in a circle around the room. No doubt an effort to show that all the Jedi Master's words carry equal weight. How very _Jedi _of them.

Every seat is filled and every eye lands of me when I enter. A great deal of bodies in the room stiffen, save a few, the most notable being Master Yoda. I study him for a moment, feeling my body tense, then warm as the feeling of peril increases exponentially. I would have been a fool not to have heard of him. If anyone in this room can take my ass down it's that stumpy, little shit. He has nearly a millennium worth of experience on me and I'm not going to be so foolish as Sidious to think I can take him in addition to the others.

Fuck, but this whole situation pisses me off. I haven't been in this much danger in a very long time.

My eyes narrow as my gaze lands on Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. My hands clench at my sides, fingers twitching for my absent lightsaber. I left it at 500 Republica to ensure that I would not lose my temper and draw it on the Jedi, thereby effectively providing them with an excellent reason to kill me. But now, I wish I had thrown caution to the wind and brought it, just to slay the two people in front of me. Of course these traitorous bastards would have seats on the Council. After all, they've well proven their loyalty to the Order in the worst way. Obi-Wan returns my gaze, brown eyes expressionless, but I immediately turn away. I don't want to look at him for fear that doing so will make me lose control. I must have the utmost discipline for this situation if I am to make it out of here alive.

Time to throw them off their game.

I walk through the chairs to the window, causing several of them to slightly shift in alarm. I ignore them in favor of staring at the picturesque view of Coruscant. This view is nearly as good as mine at 500 Republica. I tell them so.

"This is a really nice view, you guys have here," I say conversationally, finally turning to face them. "Who knew the Republic paid you guys so well?"

They all exchange glances and I smirk as their gazes harden.

"Do you know why you've been called here today?" a dark skinned man speaks, Mace Windu, I believe, one of the most skilled Jedi in the Order.

I shrug. "Perhaps because I'm a Sith Lord?" I say carelessly.

They inhale sharply, several of them stand, their hands falling to their waists where their lightsabers hang.

"Why should I lie?" I continue, crossing my arms over my chest, leaning on the window sill. "It's not like you guys don't know."

Even more of them stand, but I remain where I am, relaxed.

"But of course, you couldn't come to me, you had to escort me from my home and at such an early time too! I'm not a morning person, you know, so that only made it worse," I speak candidly, nodding. "That was just _rude_."

"If you are aware that we know who you are, then why did you come here? Are you that eager to meet your fate?" Kit Fisto, a renowned male Nautolan, speaks incredulously, head tentacles swaying slightly as he leans forward.

"And what fate would that be?" I ask, eyebrow rising. "Surely you upstanding Jedi don't plan on killing me, do you?" My tone is mocking.

The Jedi exchange forbodding glances.

"There is only one outcome between the Sith and the Jedi," Master Windu says harshly, standing as well, "even one as young and ignorant as you should know _that_."

"Is that so?" I sneer. "And how, pray tell, would you justify killing me before the Senate? The last time I checked, it wasn't a crime to believe differently from the Jedi. That isn't grounds for my execution, which is what you're suggesting and is something the Jedi have absolutely _no _authority to do. You won't be able to justify killing me in a court of law. According to the statues of the Republic, rules that must be followed by _everyone_," I pause for a moment allowing that to sink in. "I haven't done anything wrong."

They pause and foreheads burrow all over the room. They are startled and some stare at me with wide eyes as though the things I said never occurred to them. But perhaps, it hasn't. The Jedi and the Sith have been fighting a secret war for so long that it never dawned on them that I would bring something as inconsequential as _law _into our little spat. It's almost unfathomable to them and my words have truly stunned the Jedi. My logic is too civil for the ferocity of our conflict, too _smart_. I'm playing by different rules and they are at a loss as how to combat it. They weren't expecting _this_ and they all stare at me, clearly at a loss for words

All but one.

My gaze turns to Master Yoda, who sits with eyes closed and head tilted as though listening to something. He has displayed absolutely no shock at my words.

"We know that you are responsible for the death of Nute Gunray, and for several Jedi whose bodies were found near the Temple," an unnamed Jedi Master states as she finally gains her composure.

"Oh?" I respond, staring at them all blankly. "Where is your proof?"

"Proof we have not, but proof we shall soon have."

I allow myself a bit more seriousness to surface as I turn to face the greatest threat in the room: Master Yoda. Drawing on the Force, I exhale as my eyes turn a sickly yellow, uncaring that the Dark Side of the Force has invaded the room like a sickness in the body. The remaining Jedi in the room stands at the change, their faces drawn at the strength of Boga, correctly deducing that the time for playing has ended. Yoda remains seated.

The atmosphere is strung so tightly with tension that it's nearly palpable.

"Master Yoda," I state stonily, "nice of you to finally join the conversation. Your reputation precedes you."

"As does yours," the diminutive Jedi responds, finally opening his eyes to look at me. There is so much wisdom there, such an incredible connection with the Force that I delve deeper into the Dark Side just to meet his eyes. This little fucker is in a class all of his own. The very air around him seems to swim with wisdom and_ power_. I want that, I want to be that powerful!

"I sense much anger in you, young Skywalker," Yoda continues solemnly, hands clasping his cane.

"Oh really," I ask sarcastically, rolling my eyes, "did you need the Force to tell you that, Master Obvious? Of course I'm fucking angry."

"You will not speak to Master Yoda in that manner, _Sith_," Master Windu speaks, voice infuriatingly commanding.

"Or what? You'll run me through with your lightsaber?" I ask, turning my amber gaze to him. "And a purple lightsaber? Really? Is there something you want to share with the class, Windu?" I reply, smirking, while inwardly seething. To think that the vision on Naboo showed me that this prick would be my son's master! Over my dead, _rotting_ corpse.

"Anakin, please stop this," Qui-Gon Jinn speaks up for the first time, taking a step forward, "I don't know why you're doing this, but acting this way is beneath you. This isn't you."

I still and turn slowly to face him, the older half of the duo that betrayed me. How dare he have the nerve to speak to me, to act like he _knows me_. _How dare he_. "What the kriff did you just say to me? This from you? The man who the Jedi sent all the way to the Outer Rim just to get out of the fucking Temple because you wouldn't behave?"

Qui-Gon's eyes widen even as frowns litter the faces of the others.

I smirk at him and it's an unholy, malevolent thing. "Yeah, you bastard, I remember what you said all those years ago, about how the Jedi weren't too pleased with your non-conformist ways. Didn't take long to figure out that they sent you away because they were tired of your bullshit. But it seems that you did something right because they've rewarded you with a banana!"

I laugh and I know it sounds slightly unhinged, but I don't care. It feel so good to be a Sith! And I'm not even done with the faithless worm yet. "I wonder," I say in feigned wonder, "how many hoops you jumped though to get that comfy seat you're sitting in," the innocent expression drops as a vicious scoff twists my feature, "fucking _monke_—"

My words push one Jedi too far and it's just the person I've been dreading and anticipating hearing since entering this room. His voice cuts through the air, effectively ending the venomous words pouring from my mouth.

"_Anakin_!"

Finally,_ finally_, Obi-Wan Kenobi speaks.

"Oh, Obi-Wan," I say after a long moment of silence, gaze finally landing on the one place my eyes avoided since my earlier lapse, "didn't see you there. You're looking … aged."

I smirk upon seeing the flicker in his eyes at the remark.

Anakin: 1, Obi-Wan 0.

"You have changed as well, Anakin," Obi-Wan says neutrally, taking a step forward.

I fold my arms, staring at him pointedly. "That's what happens when you grow up," I say slowly, sarcasm heavy in my voice, "you get big."

Obi-Wan stares at me and slowly begins to shake his head. "How did you become this way, Anakin?" he asks softly, pain in his voice, his features. "What happened to the young lad who loved to race speeders? The one who had a special gift for building things and fixing anything his hands touched? What happened to him?."

And Obi-Wan scores.

I stare at him, and for a moment, I falter, my expression dropping as his words strike me to my core.

What happened to that boy? I would say it was Sidious, but long before I was ripped away from my mother, long before I was bought by a Sith Lord, my heart was broken by a Jedi. That was the beginning. Sidious? He just completed the work.

"You're right, Obi-Wan. I am not the boy you knew; he died a long time ago," I murmur, unable to hide my bitterness, my hate. "He died when two Jedi he trusted abandoned him to slavery after using him to get what they wanted. He was buried when a Sith Lord bought him, ripping him away from his mother, never to see her again. His memory faded when he was tortured _for years_ just for shits and giggles. When you're a nine-year old whipping boy for a lunatic, it tends to _fuck you up_."

Their eyes widen and I can't help but feel disgust as they struggle to hide their horrified expressions. I don't want their fucking pity! I want them to suffer as I suffered. I did not mean to divulge such information, something that they have no fucking right to, but it did what I needed which was unbalance them. But it's not enough. I need more.

I smile at them, effectively hiding my fury in a second. It's a talent I knows startles many people and the Jedi are no different.

"I can solve a mystery for you though," I say cheerfully, in a sing-song voice, "seems the Sith have a penchant for politics. I can give you one guess as to who my jailer was … "

I pause, letting the anticipation build. "It rhymes with —alpatine," I say finally, dramatically, giving them a smile.

It takes a second for my implication to sink in.

"Preposterous," a Jedi sputters.

"You lie!" one shouts in shock, but the proclamation is drowned out by the sudden outburst of noise as they deny my words. The cornucopia of chaos continues for nearly a minute before someone intervenes.

"Enough!" Master Yoda says, and the Jedi quiet at an impressive speed even though I can see questions still seething beneath their skins, "calm we must be to figure out this mystery."

After a few moments of silence, Mace Windu speaks.

"Are you trying to tell us that Palpatine, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, was your Master?" he asks incredulously.

In an instant, a violent, overpowering fury envelops me. Those are the wrong _fucking_ words, Mace Windu.

"I have no master! I _had_ no master!" I howl in acute rage, eyes blazing a bright gold in fury as the Dark Side of the Force whips around me in response to my sudden wrath. "That_ monster_ held me prisoner, he called me his apprentice, but he was _never_ my master! He never fucking broke me! But I sure as hell broke_ him_."

The room began to shake with my vicious anger, cracks appearing in the walls even as I take a deep breath, struggling to control my overwhelming hatred. The Jedi look at me in alarm and amazement and I know I've released too much power, showed them just how dangerous I am. But it can't be helped. It's been so long since I've thought of Sidious, the one person I hate even more than the Jedi. For the last month my life has been filled with Amidala; her skin, her wit, her smile, so much so that it doesn't feel as though there was ever anything else. It leaves me unprepared to handle the rage that hit me at the thought of my tormentor, but I am stronger than the desire for the Dark Side that rages within me and in a moment, Boga slinks away, leaving me feeling achy and hollow.

Opening my eyes, I survey them. "You can accept the information or not," I say calmly, matter-of-factly, noting the plethora of emotions on their faces, including alarm, shock, confusion, and in some, _contemplation_, which I do not like, "but you can feel the Force as I do. You know my words to be true."

Silence descends over the room and I can tell that more than one Jedi is paralyzed by the implications of my words. A Sith Lord was in a position of incredible power over the Republic and they _didn't know_. Who knows what else the Sith are up to?

"Anakin," Obi-Wan says carefully and I turn to face him, immediately on guard. "I know that I failed you all those years ago and there isn't anything I can say or do to express how much I regret that, how much that knowledge has haunted me. But we did have a good reason for our actions and if you allow Qui-Gon and I to explain …"

"I don't want to hear any more of your lies, Obi-Wan," I reply softly, shaking my head. "I believed them once, I won't believe them again."

"And if they're not lies?' he counters gently.

I pause, gazing at him and for a moment, it's as though we're the only ones in the room; just two people who made a powerful connection many years ago, one that even now struggles to live. "What does it matter, now?" I answer softly, unable to destroy the hint of sadness in my voice. "I am what I am. Nothing can change that. I am a Sith and …" I pause, knowing that completing the phrase is unnecessary. Everyone in the room knows it. Once a person starts down the path of the Dark Side, it will forever dominate his destiny. Just like it has mine.

"It matters because you would know the truth," he replies earnestly, his voice and eyes gently pleading, "and because if I know anything about Anakin Skywalker, it's that he has ever shown that he can do the unexpected … and the impossible."

I stare at him, feeling an uncomfortable lump form in my throat. This … this is how he got me the first time and it won't work again. I won't fucking let it work again! I'm not that little boy looking for approval anymore. I'm a man, a Sith Lord and I don't need those types of platitudes. And the truth? What other truth is there but that he left? How can he possibly justify that? What could have been so important? I don't want to hear it; I _won't_ hear it. This meeting is over.

"I don't want to hear this," I say sharply, turning away from the older man. "I won't subject myself to this any more. You have summoned me here and I came. And while this was not unusual, it is highly irregular and inappropriate considering you brought me here to kill me. If you want to see me again, please contact my secretary at the senate, but don't come to my home. An accident may happen."

With that not-so-subtle threat hanging in the air, I walk toward the door, escaping really, even though I'd go to my grave before admitting it. I am about to exit when another voice troubles the air.

"And what of Senator Amidala?" Master Yoda speaks softly, his eyes on me.

I still, everything in me pausing at Yoda's words.

_What?_

_How? How did they know?_

I maintain my composure.

"What about her?" I reply smoothly without missing a beat, my back still to them.

"What interest has the Sith in her?" Master Yoda's words are firm, and I can see Obi-Wan recoil in my peripheral.

I turn slowly to face the council once again. "Padmé Amidala amuses me. She is quite feisty," I give them a lecherous grin, giving them little doubt as to what I'm referring. "She thinks she's so clever, but she is no match for the Sith. I quite like playing with her."

"Know she not that you are the Sith?" Yoda presses, ignoring my crudeness. "Worked hard to keep you off our radar, she has."

I laugh softly. "I think we all know what would happen to her if she knew," I say with a cruel smirk. "But I _am_ happy to see that I still got it. Few women can resist the Skywalker charm. I can give you a few pointers, Yoda, if you want to hit the dating scene again. Must have been a few years since you last saw some action."

Eyebrows rise all over the room. A look almost like amusement crosses Master Yoda's face. "An interesting offer you make, but fine I am."

This time when I smile, it's genuine. Who knew that Master Yoda had a sense of humor?

After a moment, my smile fades and I survey them. "This is a game between the Sith and the Jedi," I tell them, yellow eyes keen as I look at each one in turn. "There is no need for anyone else."

After a moment, I once again turn toward the door.

"If that's all, I must be going. I have a peace meeting to prepare for," I pause and turn to them, throwing a wicked smirk over my shoulder. "May the Force be with you in the days to come."

#*#*#*#*#

I am the object of the attention of nearly double the amount of Jedi in the building as I am _graciously_ escorted out of the Jedi Temple by Obi-Wan and a small group of nameless Jedi peons.

"I hope you understand what your actions have done, Anakin," Obi-Wan says quietly as we near the huge, towering entryway of the Jedi Temple. I release a breath even as my body tenses.

The moment of weakness I had toward Obi-Wan before is gone and now, his very voice angers me, causing a sharp sensation of fury to rip through me. Force, I hate the temperance and patience that surrounds him like a cloud. There's a treacherous softness to his voice, a tone that portrays understanding when in reality it is really a siren's song to one's destruction. He speaks to me as an elder speaks to an errant child and I am _fucking_ tired of it. Perhaps he is mentally challenged because my little demonstration a moment ago should have told him in no uncertain terms that I am not the same slave child he screwed over on Tatooine. No, I am a totally different creature. Perhaps he simply needs to be told _again_.

"Oh, I understand Obi-Wan," I reply smoothly, barely reigning in my rage at this whole fucking fiasco, "more than you ever will."

"Is that so?" he responds, his voice harsh, "then I suppose you haven't heard just who's been accused of your crime, have you?"

"I have no clue what you're talking about," I reply, face closed, sparing him a fierce glance, "and I would ask that you not slander my character without any proof of your preposterous claims." Sometimes it pays to be a politician; bullshit becomes one's native language.

"Where is Padmé?" the Jedi asks abruptly, staring hard at me.

I smirk, eyes glowing yellow for a second, causing him to stiffen and his face to harden. "In her apartment, but hopefully in my bed soon to be fucked. Why?" I have no kriffing clue where Padmé is, a fact that is eroding my nearly non-existent patience, but Obi-Wan doesn't need to know that.

A rage most unbecoming of a Jedi flashes across his face. I watch, fascinated, as Obi-Wan takes a deep breath in a clear effort to remain calm. My smirk deepens; I've always been proud of my ability to rile the older man, it's good to know that some things haven't changed.

He shakes his head slowly, releasing the breath. "Why am I not surprised that you would disrespect her in such a way? You really don't care about her at all."

"Don't tell me how I feel, Obi-Wan," I nearly growl, turning around to face him with unconscionable speed, putting every Jedi present, both those who are 'escorting' me and those simply milling around the temple, on guard. "It was always been the Jedi's penchant to deny and be confused about their emotions, not the Sith's. Why don't you acknowledge your emotions, _Jedi_." I spit the word out like it's something foul. "Perhaps if you had, then it wouldn't be _my_ name she'll be screaming soon."

For a moment, I think he's going to attack me. He stares at me for a long moment before abruptly turning and walking away, leaving me with my Jedi escort.

Score: Anakin 2, Obi-Wan 1

"It was good catching up, Obi-Wan" I call cheerily to his retreating form, "maybe we could do it again sometime!"

#*#*#*#*#

My walk from the Jedi Temple is relaxed and unhurried.

It's nice to take my time withdrawing from the enemy's camp, to taunt them in this way. It's a small, petty thing, but it makes me feel better somehow. I can feel the eyes of various Jedi on me, questioning and affronted. I can feel their ire, the underlying aggression they're trying so hard to suppress. Many of them do not understand why the Council has allowed me, the age old adversary, to walk free. Some of them made it amusingly clear that they would have cut me down where I stood, laws be damned.

Gutsy. Seems as though some of the Jedi have balls.

Lucky for me the Council are smarter than that and realized that the consequences of such an action would be dire and potentially spell the end of the Jedi of the Order.

_Extremely_ lucky for me.

A few moments later I finally reach the boundaries of the Jedi Temple and immediately step into an immense, nearly crushing crowd of people. It's strange. It's as though a wall separates the Jedi's sanctum from the rest of the world and leaving its influence allows one to step into a completely different reality. This has been said to be true of the Jedi in more ways than one. I wonder if even they realize how separate they are from the populace.

Pulling my hood over my head, I send a mild Force pulse outward from my locus, discouraging touch and notice. As I begin my trek calmly down the street, the bright lights of the night and the low roar of noise from Coruscant's countless denizens flood around me. For once, it is welcome as the frenzied rush of beings going back and forth fits well with my present state of mind.

Slinking through the crowd, clinging to the shadows, I finally stop at the Outlander Club. While in its heyday the establishment was a place of high class, it degenerated over the years to a haven for illegal activity, gamblers and riffraff. It allows the worst of elements to enter its doors and it's for that very reason that I'm here. The hazy atmosphere, garishly bright lights, and less than honest patrons makes this the perfect place for me at the moment.

Sitting down at one of the empty barstools, I order a Corellian brandy. It arrives in seconds and I down it, savoring the burn as it goes smoothly down my throat. It's still the same shitty, horrible made drink; still my favorite too. The bartender is sliding me another brandy when someone sits next to me. I ignore him, even as I begin consuming my drink at a more sedate pace.

As suspected, the Jedi know who I am and have now confronted me. If it had not been for my foreknowledge of such, then that little episode would have gone very differently. I have no doubt that that meeting was supposed to end in my arrest or worse. Even I am not foolish enough to believe I could have defeated a whole temple full of Jedi.

To make matters worse, they know that I have some connection with Padmé and are clearly suspicious of our relationship and her motives. It's equally obvious that they no longer trust her. I did manage to do some damage control by implying that skillful manipulation of Padmé is the cause of her interest in me, but that won't hold for long. Fortunately, as I so _kindly_ explained to them, they have no legal grounds to do anything to me and thus, not her. _Especially_ not her. As senators of the Republic in excellent standing, the most they'd be able to do legally is put us under constant surveillance, waiting for us to make a mistake and slip up.

Even that serves to threaten my plans. The secrecy of my activities have been compromised, but thankfully, not Maul's. He is yet hidden to them. I am not fool enough to think that, that will remain so for long either. The time for me to act against the Jedi has finally come. It's time to begin the Abstersion.

Fortunately, while I am enacting the final plan against the Jedi, they can't touch me and will find nothing to connect the activities of the Sith to me even though they know I'm involved. A brief reprieve. So, while this disastrous turn of events does indeed alarm me, there's a more immediate concern that bothers me even more: Amidala. Where the fuck is she? And why did Obi-Wan want to know where she was? Probably to warn her to stay away from me or to give her sensitive, sad, brown eyes of betrayal for spending time with someone she knows is suspected of being a Sith. All I know is that he'd better not hurt her. I know he wouldn't touch her physically; he's too kriffing noble for that. But if he even so much as hurts her _feelings_, he'll be in the same way as Nute Gunray.

"Jedi _fucker_," I murmur in vicious annoyance, the thought of Obi-Wan upsetting Padmé making my blood _boil_, "the sooner I destroy those bastards the better."

"Master?" Darth Maul inquires, finally speaking after sliding next to me nearly ten minutes ago.

"They know that I'm the Sith," I say without preamble, "and those Jedi shits are going to be watching me. We knew that this would happen, but it still fucks up our plans. Fortunately, they still do not know all."

My gaze moves to him slowly. "They know me, but they have no knowledge of my partner. I would not be surprised if they suspected that I have some sort of apprentice, but they will never expect _you_, an equal," I murmur, golden eyes staring at him.

He blinks, his face stilling. "Partner, my Master?" he says carefully, allowing only the slightest hint of awe to color his voice, "… Equal?"

I frown. "Yes, of course. What did you think you were? My slave?" The very thought of it disgusts me to my core. I will never own another being, _ever_.

He stares at me for a moment, bright red and yellow eyes blinking slowly.

"Whatever you wish, my master," Maul says quietly, reverently, "that is what I am. Whatever you want, it shall be done."

I gaze at him sharply. Leaning close, I murmur to him harshly, "You are _not_ my slave."

"No, my master," he says simply.

I glare at him for a moment longer before turning back to my drink, disturbed.

Normally, I would be gratified that Darth Maul's dedication to me has been renewed so obviously and in such a simple way but another small, nearly imperceptible part is … _disgusted_. What does it say about this galaxy, this existence, that even the smallest show of respect to the downtrodden garners such allegiance?

Normally, I wouldn't care; life sucks and it doesn't get better. It's pain and disappointment and broken dreams. There's no metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel. There is only the powerful and the weak. Those who are weak are the playthings of those with power and are helpless in determining their own destinies.

Those who cannot shake free of their shackles content themselves with inconsequential moments of incomplete, insubstantial happiness that fail to alleviate the heavy burdens of living. It's a reality that all who live have to come to terms with and accept. Feeling sorry for any of them is a useless, pointless endeavor.

But Maul is different. I chose this course for _freedom_, because I determined in myself long ago that _no one_; not the Jedi, not Sidious, not the Senate, was going to control me. He chose nothing, nothing but to serve the man that saved his life. Would Maul still have do these things if I had not started him on this path? I cannot say. I have no idea who he is really, only that his loyalty and his willingness to be my tool has furthered my plans much faster than I could ever have done on my own.

The sudden realization, the abrupt epiphany, intrigues me. I had promised to do it long ago, to get to know this Dathomirian Zabrak in front of me, and I never did as plans to ensure the Jedi discovered Kamino—a successful endeavor—interrupted it, but perhaps the time has come. I sense that the Jedi are not yet following me, so, we are safe for the moment.

"What do you want out of life, Maul?" I ask him suddenly, turning to look at him.

His eyes widen visibly. "No one," he says slowly, staring at me, "has _ever _asked me that."

Inclining my head, I nod to the bartender. "Another drink, but make it a strawberry milk."

It's Maul's favorite.

The bartender gives me a funny look but nods and complies.

I turn back to my subordinate. He is gazing at me in surprise, his normally expressionless eyes strangely lit.

I smirk. I know why he's shocked; he's never told me that he doesn't like alcohol, that he loves strawberry milk. It's not a very Sith-like beverage after all. But I know anyway and I want him to know that it amuses me. Mightily.

"Well now you can tell someone," I say carelessly, giving him my undivided attention, "start talking, then."

Then, after a full minute of silence and a hard, questioning stare directed toward me, his face relaxes and a slow smile stretches the black and red tattoos of his face.

#*#*#*#*#

Enough is_ enough_. I have waited and waited and waited. But now, _I am done_. Any hope of non-violence fizzled and died hours ago and now I am ready to make someone _pay_.

It is the end of the day and although it has been fruitful, I am _furious_. Maul and I have formulated our plans for the Jedi, the Senate and the Trade Federation. I returned to 500 Republica, reviewed my notes for the next phase of the Peace Summit—if by some miracle it should happen—meditated, and engaged in lightsaber practice. But none of that matters right not because I_ still haven't heard from Padmé_.

I commed her a countless number of times and received no answer. I sent messages to her office in the Senate and to her secretary. I even visited her apartment and I still haven't found her. At first I thought that perhaps she had been abducted or was in trouble, but a closer inspection of her flat revealed no sign of struggle or disarray anywhere. There wasn't even any indication of foul play_ around_ her apartment. Now, after a whole day of unease and forced restraint, my anger is raging.

I thought we were beyond this shit, beyond these games. After last night I believed we had reached an understanding, but I see that I was wrong. She has run or is avoiding me again and that is unacceptable. I have resisted conducting a full out search for her, but now, it cannot be avoided. I will look for her and when I find her, she _will _be punished.

Teeth gritting, I move to the veranda and turn toward the bustling masses below. Time to find Amidala the hard way.

Closing my eyes, I stretch out with the Force, attempting to feel for her unique signature. I inhale deeply and then exhale, even as I center my mind on her. _Where_ _are you _…

Ten minutes pass.

Thirty minutes.

An hour.

Time continues to creep by as I hunt her through the Force. Seeking someone in this way is an extremely time consuming venture and something only the most skilled of Force practitioners can do. It requires an incredible amount of focus and energy, as well as the ability to stretch a Force net over an area. The fact that it's Coruscant, possibly one of the most populated planets in the galaxy, only makes the process that much harder. I have to sift through a rather annoying amount of persons to find the signature that I know to be hers.

I have been searching for her for nearly two hours when my eyes snap open. _There._ She's northeast, in the vicinity of the Senate.

Nodding, I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I leave 500 Republica. Where the hell could she possibly be that's in that direction, that's _not _the Senate? It doesn't matter. She can't possibly have a reason for her absence that will spare her from my wrath.

When outside, I pause, briefly contemplating hailing a speeder, but I quickly discard the idea and began in Amidala's direction. The Senate is not too far away and I want no one to be able to trace me to her location in case she's engaging in her Karmacide activities. Even if she is, she won't get away with not telling me, for _concerning_ me. After I've made my displeasure known she will _never_ do this again.

As I continue to walk, I frown upon noticing a strange tension in the air. People are acting … unusually. The number of citizens are beginning to condense; groups of people here and there are pausing and murmuring to one another when they normally ignore any and everybody who isn't apart of their business. It is even worse when I near Coruscant Square. It is filled to capacity with people, as usual. However, looking around I notice that people are gathering close to the holovids when they would normally be milling around and paying more attention to the shops, only watching the screens in passing.

I can think of only one thing that would hold the populace's attention in such a manner.

Without preamble, I move toward the group nearest me, easily slipping through the crowd until I am at the front near the screens. Ignoring the denizens talking and gossiping around me, I pause, head tilting, as a bright red sentence reads in basic at the bottom of the screen: _Breaking News: Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation found hanging by genitals in Senate. _

Impressive. The media is indeed quick to have found Nute Gunray's remains before the Jedi or Coruscant Police Force was able to cover up the incident. It doesn't hurt that an anonymous tip might have been sent to them about Gunray's whereabouts … or, at least, what's left of him.

I study the censored image with satisfaction. I'll have to reward Darth Maul for the display. His work is as flawless as usual. Gunray's mangled, violated form is nailed crudely to the doorway above the room to the Peace Talks, a rather ironic location. Though the media has blocked out the worst of the footage, everyone gets the gist, making the censored images nearly worse than the originals.

"Dear gods," someone murmurs nearby and I turn my head to hide a smile as numerous denizens echo the sentiment.

I am quite amused by the horror and apprehension of the crowd surrounding me. I could care less about their feelings, but I wonder if they would change their tune if they knew what a monster the leader of the Trade Federation was. Nute Gunray deserved this, deserved his fate for his crimes and I only wish he were alive so he could suffer more. I wonder if Amidala has seen this; I think she will quite enjoy it.

Crossing my arms, I continue to read the headlines. The Trade Federation has declared war and has seen a boost in their numbers. I mull over the news. It's not anything I didn't expect, but it does bring to mind the fact that I have to implement my plan and meet with the Trade Federation soon.

I briefly consider allowing them to run wild, to allow their fury over Gunray's death to take its course, but I quickly dismiss it. They've been cowed by Maul, true, but obviously it wasn't enough because they dared to declare war on the Republic without seeking my express permission. They are taking way too many liberties and I will not allow it anymore, not for another day. Perhaps Maul's demonstration was enough to straighten them out before, but obviously, their fury over Gunray's demise has caused them to act on their emotions. Unfortunately for them, I don't give a shit that they're crying over Gunray. _I_ run the fucking Trade Federation and I will see to it that no matter how angry or vengeful they are, they will be too afraid of me to even _take a shit_ before seeking my approval. The absence of a show of excessive violence has given them a backbone. But it'll be my pleasure to break it again. The sooner I remind them who's in charge, the better.

Or perhaps, it's time to simply rid myself of the Trade Federation all together, earlier plan be damned. It's an appealing thought and one I will explore more fully after I've found Padmé.

I am poised to leave the gathering when the holovid changes and another headline story appears on the many screens in the square.

When I see what's playing there, I still.

A roaring begins in my ears, drowning out the sudden shock and outburst from the crowd.

My eyes widen.

Teeth grinds.

Hands clench so hard that I feel blood bubble beneath my fingernails.

On every one of the huge screens of the square, one of the busiest places in this quadrant of Coruscant, there plays a video of Amidala being 'escorted' from 500 Republic plays by the Coruscant Police Force. It's obvious that they caught her by surprise. She is in a very simple dress, one I know that she wears around her apartment. Her hair is down, flowing in long locks down her back which she only allows when _we're alone_. The fact that _everyone _now sees it nearly paralyzes me.

Stunned, I watch as a reporter gleefully begins the story:

_Senator Amidala of Naboo has been arrested for high treason on orders of Interim Vice Chancellor for the Murder of the Viceroy of the Trade Federation, Nute Gunray_. _The Senate is in a frenzy and is calling all senators to report to …_

I stare at the screens, a nearly incomprehensible rage overcoming me even as my mind frantically replays Obi-Wan's words from earlier in the Temple.

_"I suppose you haven't heard who's been accused of your crime, have you?"_

_"Where is Padmé?"_

_"You really don't care about her at all."_

Now, of course, it _fucking makes sense_. Padmé Amidala: _My_ _Padmé _has been accused of killing Nute Gunray by Valorum! What the fuck is the Chancellor thinking accusing her and why the fuck haven't I been notified? Why the_ hell_ did I find in the middle of fucking Coruscant Plaza?

I watch an obviously seething and mortified Padmé be stuffed not-so-gently into a police transport and …

"I knew it," a man says nearby, his voice cutting through my stupefied mind, satisfaction heavy in his voice. "I knew that bitch wasn't for real. She was just nailing those other senators for power."

"I agree," another sentient, a female Chiss agreed, "I've heard that the Coruscant Police Force don't like her because she put a couple of the officer's relatives away with her little Karmacide farce. She's going to get hers now."

It's the last straw.

I snap.

Eyes narrow.

Then yellow.

Then glow.

The ground begins to shake infinitesimally … seconds before it begins to heave so hard that persons here and there begin to fall over in shock and horror as the ground that was so steady and solid beneath them moments before begins to rebel against them without warning.

Suddenly, the transceiver of the jumbo holovid in front of us shatters, raining fragments both large and small on unsuspecting citizens.

Someone screams, a high pitched, terrified sound. As though a switch is flipped, people begin to scatter in fear.

I stand, still and silent, amongst the pandemonium as I unleash the full force of my fury on the square. More screaming sound as one by one, the transceivers explode, hiding Padmé's shame if only in this one place. As citizens panic and flee, the two that dared to badmouth my Empress find that they cannot run.

The world nothing more than a red haze, I gracefully lift a hand toward the two. Using the Force, and two fingers to beckon them, I draw them near. The action is lost in the sheer bedlam of the moment as citizens run in a mindless frenzy to escape the sudden destruction of their surroundings.

The terror in the eyes of the Man and the Chiss is intoxicating. Force, but how I've missed that look!

"Thank you," I say fervently to them, yellow eyes gleaming madly, "for giving me a reason to kill again. It's been so long …"

The Chiss is so terrified that she's foaming at the mouth. The Man's eyes looks as though they're about to pop out of his head.

"For the crime of badmouthing my Empress," I whisper, eyes gleaming with unspeakable malice, "_death_."

I can feel them both beginning to faint, but I don't allow it. Using the Force, I compel them to remain conscious: I can't allow them to sleep on the_ best part_. Slowly, I curve my hand, Force choking them, watching the agony in their eyes as I destroy their larynxes. Before long, they are dead and I allow their bodies to drop carelessly to the ground.

The square is still amass in discord when the Security Force finally arrives, desperately seeking to quell the panic and figure out what caused the destruction in the square.

I don't give a kriff. I have unleashed my fury, but it is far from spent.

Padmé is in jail.

_My Padmé_ is in jail and accused of _treason_.

There's only one person who is responsible for this and he will pay for this blasphemous affront with all that he holds dear.

"Well, Mr. Chancellor," I whisper into the heavy, permeable, atmosphere, even as my rage continues to darken the Force; whiplashing through the sacred energy, "looks like your time is up."

Turning slowly, I zero in on the closest Security Officer. He's a ways away from the others: Excellent. Immediately, I begin to walk slowly toward him even as chaos continues to reign. Someone runs into me, a screaming, hysterical woman. I immediately send the Force through her organs, exploding her heart in her chest. She drops like a stone in front of me. I step over her body.

I don't like being touched.

When I am near the officer, I lift a hand once again. Using the Force, I draw the startled Security Officer to me. He yelps, a sound I can hear even behind his visored helmet. As he struggles futilely against my power, I bear down on his mind with Force Dominate Mind strong enough to control a raging herd of Gundark.

His mind shatters under the inconceivable might of it, but I don't care. I only need him for one thing.

Turning my gaze to him, my voice lashing out like the sharp crack of a raucous, unstoppable lightning storm, I give him my command.

"Take me to Padmé Amidala._ Now_."

End of Chapter 32: Please review

**Chapter 33: No Confidence**: A change is made.

A/N: As usual, life is busy, and as usual the update comes a bit late but it _is_ here. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Please, please, please leave reviews. If you have never told me what you thought of this story, please consider doing so. It means the world to me. Every review helps now because I think it would be awesome if this fic was the number one most reviewed story in the Star Wars genre. That would just be … amazing beyond words.

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers. I know reviewing each time might not be easy, but you do it and I appreciate it more than I can say. You guys rock.

Also … fic recommendation time! I have two. They're not in the Star Wars genre, but in the Naruto fandom, but they are definitely worth a read. Firstly; Solvdrage. Read just about anything that he writes; it's all amazing. Next is WesDunne and his fic; Cruel Fate, Kind Destiny. Although I don't agree with some of his themes, overall he has some of the best Naruto fan fiction around and it's so under reviewed. Give their fics a chance and please review them. For the incredible quality of their stories, they have a really disheartening number of reviews.

Remember, to a great many authors and readers, the number of reviews indicate just how great a story is. Now, while this fails to be in true in more instances than I like, it's also very much true in other cases. So, please do it. It means a lot.

What else … ah, yes. I'm wrapping up this fic as best as I can so I can move on. I think I want to quit fan fiction and write some original stuff. It's going to be awesome, of course. I mean, seriously guys, it's gong to boggle the mind. I'm seriously considering posting it on Wattpad, so if you guys are interested let me know in a review, yeah? So, I want to finish this and then I'm probably done with fanfiction. I think. That may change tomorrow … or in the next five minutes.

*Cough*

Well, that's all folks. Until next time.

WrittinInStone


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